


Where's My Love

by Vaderisbae



Series: Tales of the Commander [6]
Category: Alpha and Omega - Patricia Briggs, The 100 (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Alpha Lexa (The 100), Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angry Lexa (The 100), BAMF Clarke Griffin, BAMF Clarke Griffin/Lexa, BAMF Lexa (The 100), Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Fae & Fairies, Fantasy, Finn Collins' Death, Fire Powers, Fluff, Half-fae Raven, Ice Court, Ice Queen, Kidnapping, Like I suck at writing smut, Magic, Mechanic Raven Reyes, Minor Character Death, Multi, Native American Character(s), Native American Lexa, Never Abandoned, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Niylah, Sequel, Trikru Lexa, Underhill - Freeform, Urban Fantasy, Viking Clarke Griffin, Wanheda Clarke Griffin, Werewolf Bellamy, Werewolf Lexa (The 100), Werewolf Lincoln, Werewolf Octavia, Werewolves, basically everyone is a badass, clarke can control fire, fae, kind of, minor smut, so there's not a ton, there's more stuff probably, ugh i hate tagging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:47:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25451869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaderisbae/pseuds/Vaderisbae
Summary: After defeating the vampires of Mount Weather, Clarke settles in at Aspen Creek. Lexa returns to her usual duties as the Commander of the North American werewolves and Clarke begins making progress in recovering some kind of normal life. Lexa and Anya continue to search for the traitor, Finn Collins, to exact their retribution and enact justice. Life is good, until Clarke's past comes calling. And it's not taking no for an answer.ORSequel to "Howl". Lexa is a badass werewolf Alpha in charge of all the packs in North America and Clarke is a badass Viking chick with elemental fire magic. Clarke has left both friends and enemies in her wake and some of them decide it's time to take matters into their own hands.
Relationships: Anya & Lexa (The 100), Anya/Raven Reyes, Bellamy Blake/Echo, Clarke Griffin & Raven Reyes, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Gustus/Indra (The 100), Octavia Blake & Clarke Griffin, Octavia Blake/Lincoln
Series: Tales of the Commander [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1695346
Comments: 79
Kudos: 151





	1. Cold Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke goes to therapy. Lexa has to deal with a newcomer in town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there guys, gals, and non-binary pals! Guess what? I'm back!! I'm so excited to finally be posting the 1st chapter of my sequel. Let me know in the comments if there are any mistakes or typos. I'm planning on updating once every two weeks, though I might post more frequently if I can figure out some of my plot hangups. I love y'all!!

“So, what were we talking about last time you came in, hun?” Niylah’s sweet Southern accent flowed through the office like honey as she sat across from where Clarke was curled up on a comfy leather chair. 

The blonde just shrugged, not meeting the Omega’s kind eyes as she fidgeted with a small metal puzzle, trying to free a spiked metal ball from its cylindrical cage. Chin-length, sunlight-colored locks fell across her face as she leaned forward, pretending to be fully absorbed in the handheld puzzle. It had been several weeks since she had escaped from Underhill and managed to stumble upon Aspen Creek. The time in the small town had done her well, her clothes no longer hung so loosely and she had lost the haggard, starved look she’d arrived with. Her wild mane of blonde curls had been groomed and trimmed to a much more easily manageable short cut still long enough to sport several Viking braids throughout. The room where they sat was small and cozy, weak autumn light drifting lazily in from the wide skylight in the ceiling. Two cushy brown leather armchairs sat facing each other with a small oak coffee table between. The other side of the office was taken up by a worn bookcase and hand-crafted oak desk that matched the coffee table. The air smelled of whatever candle Niylah had decided was her favorite for the week, the current one seemed to be fresh-cut lavender. 

Who knew Niylah wasn’t just a general store owner? Apparently she also was a licensed therapist in twenty states and four countries; perks of being a long-lived wolf includes having the time to master a variety of skills. Shortly after the ordeal with the Mountain Seethe, Lexa had sat the firestarter down and explained some advances that had been made in treating what Clarke’s people had called battle madness. She recalled how some of the warriors in her village were afflicted with the condition. They were constantly on edge, paranoid, aggressive, unable to distinguish the danger of past battles from the safety of the present. Her mother had treated them with sedatives to help them sleep through violent nightmares, but their illness was ignored otherwise. It was seen as rude to call attention to those who sacrificed their sanity to fight in their village’s wars. Lexa told her that this battle madness had a new name: post-traumatic stress disorder or PTSD for short. And this PTSD was a symptom of the mind’s way of defending itself against traumatic experiences.

Trauma had basically been Clarke’s entire life. She had learned young that everything has a cost and that cost was often extracted through blood and pain. In her characteristically soothing voice, Lexa had gently explained that Clarke’s constant nightmares, hyper-vigilance, and overwhelming flashbacks don’t have to plague her for the rest of her life. That it was possible, and good even, to relax and trust in the safety around her. The blonde was hesitant at first, not ready to admit her weakness, even to her new mate. Paranoia was only detrimental when no one was actually out to get you. And in Clarke’s experience that was never the case. She couldn’t accept that it was okay to finally let her guard down. But Lexa hadn’t pushed her, just told her the basics of what therapy meant and suggested she talk to Niylah about it when she felt comfortable. Eventually, the nightmares and stress ate away at her enough to broach the topic with the Omega and that conversation had ended up here, in this cozy office once a week for ‘therapy.’

“Okay, well, is there anythin’ on your mind that you’d like to discuss?” Niylah asked, leaning back in her chair, relaxing with a cup of hot camomile tea. Clarke had always felt safe with Niylah, but that safety didn’t necessarily extend to sharing her hellish past in vivid, gory detail. Details hurt and the firebrand believed they were best left buried. Niylah let her keep her silence, but refused to fill it on her own so Clarke was often compelled to speak just to alleviate the heavy quiet. The blonde trusted Niylah, but there was only so far that trust could go in the span of a couple short months. Clarke had built walls around herself for a reason, Underhill had taught her the hard way that trust was a luxury, and a risky one at that. She couldn’t help but hide behind those walls whenever anyone tried to uncover her vulnerabilities. Vulnerability was dangerous and she hadn’t survived this long just to let go of those precautions so easily. With Niylah though, Clarke’s often open hostility when feeling exposed gave way to a less antagonistic quiet. The Omega was one of the few bastions of safety Clarke had found in her time here and she didn’t want to sabotage that with her refusal to open up. Occasionally, Clarke let gaps appear in her defenses when it came to Niylah. Niylah was one of the very few that she trusted with her weaknesses.

Today, however, she was in no mood to give in to the wolf’s soothing tactics. Silence lay thick as fog, only the faint ticking of a clock hanging on the wall interrupting it. Twenty minutes passed before Clarke heard a huff of a sigh and the clink of a teacup being placed on the coffee table. When she looked up, she saw Niylah’s hand extended out to her, palm up in invitation for Clarke to let her calming touch soothe the tension radiating through her chest. Clarke paused before giving in and taking the proffered hand. A soothing wash of warmth suffused her bones, easing the tightly wound muscles and allowing Clarke to inhale the first deep breath she’d had all day. The Omega’s powers worked much stronger on other werewolves, relaxing them and instilling an overwhelming sense of peace and calm just with her very presence. For non-wolves though, skin contact was required for her talents to be effective. It was a technique that proved invaluable in the woman’s time as a therapist, allowing her patients to exist without the anxiety and fear that was so common in their lives. 

Clarke accepted the feeling gratefully. She could use some reassurance after last night’s nightmares. Her normal terrors were routine, common and easy enough to shrug off after the initial fear faded. Underhill’s horrors held little power over her now that she was free and again in the human realm. However, last night’s nightmare was a whole ‘nother story. This time, she’d dreamed of something new. She’d been back in the dim silver mines, searching for her love while fighting through hordes of gemstone-eyed, fanged vampires and grotesquely monstrous Reapers. She’d eventually found the red wolf, but it wasn’t her Sister Wolf, her Lexa. As Clarke had laid eyes on it, she realized with bone-deep horror that this hellish beast was no forest-green-eyed, soft-hearted Commander. It was the embodiment of pure evil. In the dream, this wolf was a hulking brute, three times its normal size, the void black of its eyes dripping like oil down its cheeks in a mockery of the Alpha’s usual warpaint. Clarke had turned and run just like before, feeling as though her legs were moving through thick syrup, and, like then, the wolf gave chase. This time though, when the monster had pounced and knocked her to the ground, it’s teeth didn’t stop at dimpling the skin of her neck. It had clamped its jaws down, tearing through muscle and bone, and wrenched Clarke’s head from her body as screams ripped from her throat. Somehow she could still see through her dead eyes and was forced to watch as the beast tore her body apart. She’d woken to Lexa shaking her shoulder and calling her name, but the dream seemed to ooze into the waking world as, instead of the concerned green eyes she was used to, only onyx voids stared out at her from her mate’s face. She’d scrambled out of Lexa’s arms in panic and sat huddled against the headboard as the Alpha watched helplessly. The rest of the night had been spent curled in a ball, rocking back and forth until she finally succumbed to exhaustion.

That nightmare had plagued the blonde all throughout the day, lingering in the dark every time she closed her eyes. As such, she’d been on edge and skittish, almost as bad as when she first escaped Underhill. Being in Niylah’s office was the first time she felt like she could actually relax without the threat of the monster stalking her dreams. Under the Omega’s comforting influence, Clarke finally opened up about what she’d been through the previous night. They talked for a long time, discussing Clarke’s fears and experiences and tricks to help her identify reality from flashback. Niylah counseled Clarke to talk to her mate about her nightmares, telling her that communication is the only way to engender understanding and build a healthy relationship. Despite her earlier resistance, the blonde did feel better after letting her fears off her chest, drained but better. At the end of the session, she hugged Niylah and walked out into the frosty late Fall afternoon to see Lexa waiting for her, leaning against her bike looking incredible in a red leather motorcycle jacket and ripped black jeans. Warmth kindled in Clarke’s chest as the Alpha’s face lit up with a smile reserved only for her. She made her way to her mate and planted a gentle kiss on the other’s lips before they both mounted the bike and returned to their home.

Clarke was always grateful that Lexa never asked about what went on in her therapy sessions. It was a huge gesture of trust for the Alpha, trust that her mate would let her in on anything she needed to know and wouldn’t hide anything important to their relationship. The blonde treasured that trust, she knew how hard it was for Lexa to leave herself so vulnerable. So as Lexa walked into the cabin and made to go up to her office, Clarke reached for her arm to hold her back for a moment. She grabbed the Alpha’s hand and sat them both on the couch, relieved that the place was empty for now. They sat together in the living room, Lexa with one leg folded under her and her body turned to face the blonde next to her. Clarke was just close enough to her for Lexa’s knees to brush against her thigh, but far enough to give herself some space to breathe. Lexa waited patiently for her to share whatever it was that weighed on her.

“Do you remember last night?” Clarke began. At Lexa’s nod, she continued, “I had a nightmare, not one of my normal ones. This one was about that time in the mountain, when you were--when you...lost yourself.” She paused then, working up the courage to explain her extreme reaction to the Alpha. Lexa had been distant since the blonde’s initial panicked reaction and Clarke knew it was because the wolf believed she had been afraid of her. Lexa was so used to being someone who inspired fear and respect that she assumed Clarke’s reaction was a similar response. Clarke needed to nip that thought in the bud before it grew into a wedge forcing them apart (she had Niylah to thank for that metaphor).

“Clarke?” Lexa asked, tilting her head and frowning almost imperceptibly.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to get my thoughts in order. What I’m trying to say is that this nightmare bled into reality and made me see something that wasn’t there. I just want you to know that you don’t scare me, Lexa. I was never afraid of you. I was afraid of a false image that my mind projected onto you.” She bit her lip and looked away, waiting for the other woman’s reaction.

“Little flame, thank you. I...it means a lot for you to tell me this. I realize how difficult it is for you to share your nightmares.” Lexa’s calm voice soothed the anxiety roiling in Clarke’s chest over admitting her weakness and failure to control her fear and drew her gaze back to those captivating green eyes. Lexa reached out and placed a comforting hand on Clarke’s where it had bunched up in a fist on her thigh. “What do you need? If it happens again, what can I do?”

“I wish I knew. I don’t even know how to help myself!” She flung her unoccupied hand in the air and blew out a huff of frustration. “Niylah’s been helping me learn how to separate my nightmares from reality, but I’m still not confident I can do it very well on my own yet. I guess...just don’t feel bad if I shrink away from you? It’s not you that scares me, it’s just whatever messed up shit is going on in my brain.”

“Deal, that is definitely something I can do,” Lexa walked her long, slender fingers up the front of Clarke’s light jacket and wrapped them around her collar, “now, how about I make us both feel very, very good?”

That self-confident smirk ignited a pool of heat in Clarke’s core and she let the Alpha reel her in by the collar for a gentle caress of her lips. She deepened the kiss, pulling Lexa’s lower lip into her mouth and nibbling it just the way she knew drove her mate crazy. It succeeded beautifully, eliciting a velvet growl from Lexa’s chest and an almost frantic attempt to strip off the blonde’s jacket. Clarke was happy to oblige, shedding the offending garment and unzipping the wolf’s own coat before shoving both off the couch. She pushed Lexa down onto her back against the arm of the couch, grinning at the look of surprise and arousal on her girlfriend’s face. Her hands dragged up Lexa’s toned body, feeling the wolf’s breath stutter and come heavier with every inch she crept up until she cupped her hands over soft breasts, unfortunately covered by thick layers of clothing. A grimace appeared as she pouted at the barrier keeping her from feeling soft, warm skin. Lexa helpfully solved the problem by flexing those incredible abs, sitting up enough for Clarke to peel off the shirt and unhook her bra. Clarke’s jaw dropped at the perfection of her girlfriend’s body, all smooth bronze and defined muscles, thanks to her werewolf nature. Her hungry hands were drawn to the silky softness of exposed breasts, stroking them breathlessly as the Alpha released soft moans of pleasure. _Holy Odin, Thor, and Frigg combined, how did I get so lucky?_ Brilliant emerald showed Sister Wolf had come out to play as she grabbed the firebrand’s hands and lifted them up to tangle in the brunette’s wavy hair. She then slid her own hands under Clarke’s shirt and wrapped them around the blonde’s ribs to pull her down within reach of her mouth. She reveled in Lexa’s hot tongue sweeping into her mouth, sending shivers down her spine.

At that moment, the front door banged open as a tangle of two people tumbled in, lips locked and hands clutching. Lexa bolted upright at the interruption, whacking her head into Clarke’s in her rush.

“Anya?” “Raven?” Lexa and Clarke’s voices overlapped as they stared at the unwelcome intruders.

The tangle of hands and tongues leapt apart at the sound of the couple’s voices. A red-faced Raven froze as a disheveled Anya leaned against the wall behind her, feigning casualness at being caught making out with the half-fae mechanic. Both pairs just stared at each other for a few seconds. Clarke’s cheeks were tinged with red as well, which deepened as she realized she was still straddling the half-naked Alpha in full view of one of her best friends and the Alpha’s sister. She scrambled off the couch, thudding ungracefully to the wood floor, and snatched Lexa’s shirt from the floor, tossing it at her mate. Lexa caught the shirt effortlessly, but made no move to put it on.

The Alpha stood and crossed her arms over her exposed chest, not to cover herself but in confident nonchalance, unphased by her nakedness. She met Anya’s eyes and stared her down, the air filling with the palpable pressure of Lexa’s dominant authority battling with her Second’s. The Second did her best to hold the Alpha’s gaze and succeeded for nearly a minute before dropping her eyes and backing down. Clarke could see the subtle satisfied grin on her mate’s lips as Anya muttered to Raven and dragged the mechanic back out the front door in defeat.

“So, where were we?” Lexa turned back to a flushed Clarke, eyebrow raised and mouth curved in a cocky smirk. Clarke rolled her eyes before swooping in to kiss Lexa again. She yelped in surprise as the Alpha lifted the blonde into her arms. Clarke eagerly wrapped her legs around the brunette’s waist as she began making their way to the bedroom. “Let’s go somewhere I know we won’t be interrupted, shall we?”

Clarke clung to the toned werewolf as she carried her up the stairs, hungrily drinking in Lexa’s sandalwood and cinnamon scent and the velvet softness of the bared skin on her neck and collarbones. Lexa reached the bedroom, carrying her mate inside, and kicked the door shut behind her.

\------------------------------------------------------

“Mmph, Anya?” Lexa blinked muzzily at the silhouette blocking the square of light marking the doorway.

“Another stray’s come strolling into town.” The Second replied brusquely.

“Ugh, why don’t these people ever come at a normal time of day?” Despite her complaining, Lexa was already shimmying out from Clarke’s arms and pulling on clothes. The sleeping blonde merely rolled over into the warm space and threw Lexa’s pillow over her head. Lexa chuckled and moved the pillow just enough to place a sweet kiss on her sleepy mate’s forehead before exiting the room.

Lexa sat herself in the passenger seat of Anya’s battered old truck, grumbling at the fact that the weather had grown too icy to take her motorcycle. The drive to the Meeting Hall wasn’t too long, though and soon enough they were hopping out and striding into the warm Hall. Lexa hadn’t felt the need to put on her _Heda_ garb, seeing as it was only one newcomer who didn’t seem like a threat. She saw Ryder and Kyle Wick standing next to a tall willowy woman with chestnut brown hair and a long, thick winter jacket. She strode up to her throne and sat, waiting for Anya to settle herself at her side before speaking.

“So, who’s this?” she asked her wolves.

“She introduced herself as Echo, Commander. She says she’s looking for shelter.” Ryder’s gruff voice filled the quiet Hall as he stepped forward to address his Alpha’s question.

Lexa turned to the woman with wide brown, almost doe-like eyes and cocked her head wolfishly to the side, considering her.

“So, you wish to join our motley crew here in Aspen Creek? And where, praytell, did you hear of us?” She scrutinized the woman’s expression for any sign of discomfort or lies. _**I haven’t smelled her ilk before**_ , Sister Wolf commented, _**she’s fae, but I can’t tell what kind**_. It was unusual for Lexa and Sister Wolf to come across a type of fae that they couldn’t at least guess at. Over three centuries or so of experience in meeting far more than their share of supernatural creatures had made Lexa a veritable encyclopedia of knowledge. It didn’t disturb her too much though, power recognized power, and this half-fae didn’t have enough in her to offer any true worry.

“Um, my name’s Echo, though I guess you already knew that. I heard about this place on the Rez. Most fae hate us half-blood’s and those at Walla Walla aren’t any different. I got out the first chance I had and started making my way here.”

The Ronald Wilson Reagan Fae Reservation, better known as the Walla Walla Reservation or in more colloquial terms, Fairyland, was one of the four main reservations for fae-kind in North America. After the fae had come out to the public about thirty years ago, most of them had flocked (or been driven) to the quickly constructed reservations. Most of the public believed it was because of the threat of the US military, but it had far more to do with the command of the Grey Lords. These Grey Lords made up the ruling body of the fae, not because of any sort of election or chosen title but merely because they had the power to enforce their rulings. The fae were all held to a hierarchy of strength: the more power you held, the more you were left to do as you please. The weaker fae had no choice but to move to Fairyland as the Grey Lords demanded, though the Lords themselves had little to do with those places of cement and steel. Any half-blood showing even an inkling of magic was forced into confinement as well, as it seemed Echo had. Most of the outcasts in Aspen Creek were fleeing something of the like, their fae parent either cared nothing for them or wanted to exploit any hint of magic they possessed. Raven’s braced leg was a gift from some fae who thought her human blood made her weak. They had learned otherwise, but it came at the cost of Raven’s mobility. No one knew exactly what Murphy was fleeing, but he wasn’t much of a sharer. Monty had followed his best buddy here from one of the reservations farther to the south.

“What can you offer in return for safe haven? We require everyone here to chip in their fair share, though you’ll have time to settle in first. And this may be a prying question, but I need to know the answer if you are to be allowed to live amongst my people. What kind of fae blood runs in your veins?”

“I wish I knew exactly,” Lexa could sense the sincerity in Echo’s answer, but it wasn’t satisfying as it should be. “My mother never got around to telling me before the Grey Lords killed her for something or other.” 

Still technically the truth, but not everything. This Echo was as skilled at half-truths as her fae progenitors. However, Echo genuinely did seek a safe haven and whatever she was hiding would come out soon enough. She’d put her with one of the pack for now until she could be sure of the woman’s intentions.

“Well enough, for now you can have a place with one of my wolves. The Blake house has a fully renovated basement apartment that should be adequate accommodations until you can find something more to your liking. Anya and I can give you a ride to their place. Do you have anything with you?” Echo gestured to a small carry-on sized suitcase at her feet. “Well, if you need anything, be sure to let Bellamy know and he can take you to our Trading Post tomorrow, or rather, later today it seems.” Lexa glanced at her watch briefly to see that it was past 2 AM.

Meeting adjourned, Ryder and Wick returned to their patrol and Echo joined the other two women walking out. They piled into Anya’s truck, Anya slinging the baggage into the bed and cramming Echo onto the bench seat between the Alpha and the Second. They made the trip to the Blakes’ in fairly easy quiet, it was too early in the morning for any kind of conversation. Several minutes later, they pulled up in front of a weathered small, 3-bedroom house. The Blake siblings had inherited it from their mother after her death several years ago and lived there together until recently. After Lincoln and Octavia became official, she had moved out, leaving Bellamy to take care of the place on his own. Lexa believed it would do him good to have some company for a while. Lexa and Echo slid out of the truck and she took Echo’s bag from the back, Anya electing to stay in the much warmer interior. Lexa stamped the snow off her boots on the worn welcome mat (reading: Welcome to the Shitshow) and knocked briefly on the door. A light from one of the upstairs bedrooms flicked on and Lexa could hear fumbling footsteps thumping down the stairs a minute or two later. Bellamy, wearing nothing but a pair of gym shorts, opened the door, seemingly oblivious to the freezing night air. Lexa confidently brushed past him, beckoning Echo to follow. The wolf closed the door behind them and followed the Alpha into the sitting room like a sleepy puppy.

“Alpha?” The werewolf asked, crossing his arms over his bare chest. Echo’s eyes followed the motion and Lexa noted how the woman seemed to appreciate Bellamy’s physique. Though a fervent follower of Sappho herself, she could see how the tousled black curls and ruggedly sharp face could be attractive. _This could get interesting_. Sister Wolf hummed in agreement.

“Bellamy, Echo.” Lexa gestured to first her wolf and then the half-fae. “Echo, meet Bellamy Blake. She’ll be staying in your basement apartment for the next little while until she gets her feet under her. For tomorrow, I think the gun range will be a good place to start her off, don’t you think, Bellamy?” 

The wolf blearily nodded, seemingly too tired to really be invested in his new roommate. He wordlessly took Echo’s single carryon and waved his arm, signaling the half-fae to follow him to the basement. After a somewhat apprehensive look back towards Lexa, she trailed after him. 

Lexa was confident in Bellamy’s ability to get the woman settled, so she walked back out to the truck, almost slipping on a patch of slick ice covering the walk, and clambered into the passenger seat. They made their way to the cabin and inside to their respective rooms. Lexa stripped off her clothes and snuggled in behind her mate, melting at the welcome warmth of Clarke’s skin. The blonde hummed sleepily and pulled Lexa’s arms around herself only to squeak and shrink away when Lexa buried her cold nose into the firebug’s neck. She slapped Lexa’s arm grumpily, but gave in to Lexa’s sweet apology kisses along the back of her neck.

“What w’s th’t all ‘bout?” The words were slurred with sleep, but Lexa could still make them out well enough.

“We have a newbie in town. Anya and I got her settled in at the Blakes for the time being. Maybe if you would like, you can go meet her tomorrow. She should be at the gun range with Bellamy for at least the first bit of his shift.”

Clarke nodded drowsily and cuddled closer to the Alpha, wiggling so her back was flush with the Alpha’s front. Sister Wolf released a low rumble of approval from deep in Lexa’s chest, causing a shiver of pleasure down the blonde’s spine. She rolled over to face her mate, eyes heavy-lidded and sultry. She walked her fingers up Lexa’s exposed chest, biting her lip in a way that made heat pool in Lexa’s core.

“Y’know, since I’m already awake…” the firestarter trailed off as a different kind of fire kindled in the Alpha’s gut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think? Do you like it so far? The first chapter is nice and fluffy, but don't worry things get more interesting soon enough ;)
> 
> Thank you guys for being so wonderful and supportive of this series! I never expected all the love I've gotten so far and it's been inspirational. If you like gay stuff and random funny shit, look me up on tumblr at [yashaisbae](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/yashaisbae).
> 
> Also, shoutout to [ascheritte-creedance](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/ascheritte-creedance) on tumblr for being the best beta reader ever and inspiring me to always keep going with this fic!!


	2. That's My Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and the Chaos Crew get to know Echo. Raven makes a hilarious connection, much to the Alpha's dismay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals! This is a little earlier than I thought it would be :). I finished writing the chapter and got tired of editing it, so I figured I'd just go ahead and post it so I don't have to look at it anymore XD. I hope you enjoy!

Clarke pushed the shopping cart around Niylah’s Trading Post, chuckling at Raven’s and Octavia’s antics. The werewolf was bouncing around like a jackrabbit on crack, ricocheting between looking at packets of balloons to dumping piles of junk food in the cart to chatting about the new girl living with Bellamy. She had called Clarke earlier that day to propose a girls’ night to help them all get to know Echo better and just as an excuse to hang out. Both Lexa and Anya were out of town handling werewolf matters, so Clarke offered up the cabin for the night. The Alpha had rushed out the door yesterday morning after a brief phone call in her office. It was only after Lexa had rounded up Anya and taken off in the pack’s Cessna that Clarke had learned the call was supposedly a tip about Finn Collins’ whereabouts. _I hope she skewers the prick,_ the firebrand thought maliciously after learning the reason for Lexa’s rapid departure. After Octavia enthusiastically accepted the offer of the Alpha’s cabin, Raven was quickly roped into the planning and they all met up at Niylah’s to stock up on supplies.

Raven hung back near the blonde, laughing at Octavia’s exuberance and making snide remarks at every opportunity. One wheel of the cart squeaked incessantly as they meandered up and down the aisles, irritating the half-fae mechanic to no end. Whenever Raven forced them to stop so she could fidget with the loose wheel, Clarke took the time to sort through the chaos of the cart’s contents and return the excess items to the shelves. Five party-size bags of Cheddar and Sour Cream potato chips was just unnecessary, despite Octavia's insistence that she could eat four of the bags on her own. The cart resumed it’s journey through the store, squeaking absent thanks to Raven’s tinkering. As they meandered, Clarke realized that the phone Raven was fiddling with was, in fact, not the mechanic’s phone, but Clarke’s.

“Hey! What in Hel’s name? That’s mine!” Clarke demanded, trying to swipe the device back out of Raven’s grasp. Despite her leg’s limited mobility, Raven was quick enough to sidestep the blonde’s efforts. The other woman was unfortunately tall enough to hold the phone just out of Clarke’s reach. “How did you even unlock it? Where did you get my password?”

“I’m magic, hot stuff.” Raven scoffed, using one hand to hold the firebug back while she waved the phone in the air. “I’m also literally a genius. It doesn’t take much to figure out that your password is ‘Lexa’. You really should get a better password, _chica_. Besides, I wanna see what the blonde Viking artist firebender decides to take pictures of.” She winked at the red-faced Clarke, who flushed in embarrassment at her lax phone security and kept scrolling through the photos.

Most of the pictures were, unsurprisingly, of a certain green-eyed brunette. Pictures of her in full _Heda_ garb, warpaint intimidating and eyes hard as emeralds; pictures of her curled up in front of the fireplace in wolf shape, red fur lustrous in the flickering light, eyes closed as she basked in the warmth; pictures sneakily taken of her relaxing on the couch, absent-mindedly chewing on her lip, focused on the book in her lap; pictures of her chopping wood for the cabin in only a sports bra and jeans, muscles on full display under the bright sunlight. There were other photos dispersed throughout, the chaos crew (or so Raven had dubbed Octavia, Raven, and Clarke) all together laughing at their latest shenanigans, beautiful shots of sunsets or interesting nature scenes, things Clarke wanted to preserve as references for recapturing later with pencils and paints. Thank all the gods, Clarke had yet to attempt the art of nudes, so there was nothing truly juicy for Raven to discover. She eventually gave up on trying to reclaim her phone and let the mechanic have the win for now.

“You know, I don’t think I realized until now, but Lex looks like a raccoon with her warpaint on.” She turned the screen to Clarke, showing her a picture of Lexa’s face scrunched up in displeasure at something someone had said, warpaint outlining her eyes and forming a mask of charcoal on her face. It was one of the less intimidating designs, the streaks down the cheeks much less pronounced. She really did look like a trash panda with her paint like that. “Look at those cute little raccoon eyes!”

“Oh, she’s gonna HATE that! Guess she’s gonna have a new nickname now.” Clarke snickered, imagining the Alpha’s clenched jaw and narrowed eyes of displeasure at being called such an undignified nickname. “I can’t wait until she gets back so I can see her reaction.”

\----------------------------------

Lexa’s phone chimed and she pulled it from her pocket to check the new message. It was from Clarke, some sort of picture file. Opening it, she found herself confronted by what looked like a collage of pictures of her and a raccoon. Three dots appeared below the collage.

**Little Flame** : 

**Little Flame** : Raven and I just had a revelation!!! She’s calling this the Lexacoon! Isn’t it adorable?? 😂😂😘😘

**Lexa** : I’m going to kill Raven when I get back.

Raven was corrupting her mate. Lexa was going to _murder_ the woman when she got back. There was no way the Alpha could ever live new indignity this down. _Ugh, why do they insist on ruining my reputation_. _**We do NOT look anything like that pathetic little rodent!**_ Sister Wolf exclaimed, indignant at being compared to a mangy trash panda. _I know, we get no respect from our wildfire_. Lexa shook her head and locked her phone, suppressing the amusement at her mate under an emotionless mask as she returned her attention to the meeting.

\-----------------------------------------------------

Clarke cackled as she sent the picture Raven and Octavia had helped her assemble to her mate. She knew she’d pay for it later, but it was so worth it. They had returned to the cabin a few hours ago and lounged in the living room waiting for the oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies in the oven to be done. The cookies had been Clarke’s idea, but she’d been relegated to the other room after Octavia reminded her of Lexa’s comprehensive ban on Clarke’s use of the kitchen. _You catch the stove on fire ONE time and they never let you live it down_ , Clarke muttered to herself as she flopped onto one of the black, leather couches. The smell of vanilla and melting chocolate filled the cabin, making the blonde’s stomach rumble.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long until Niylah arrived with the new girl in tow. Niylah, of course, had brought with her a huge Mississippi mud pie and Clarke’s mouth watered at the sight of it. She leapt off the couch and liberated the pie from the Omega’s grasp, only to have it stolen back through werewolf-fast reflexes.

“Wait a hot second, sweetheart!” Niylah exclaimed, poking Clarke in the forehead. “Where are your manners? What, were you raised by wild beasts?”

Clarke stuck out her tongue in response before turning to the quiet chestnut-brunette still hovering near the entryway. A small smile flickered around the woman’s lips at their banter, though her arms remained wrapped protectively around her middle. Clarke took a second or two to just observe the newcomer, assessing her stance and expression and aura. The woman seemed slightly timid, but Clarke could tell it was more out of being thrown into a new situation than from any true shyness or anxiety. The blonde held out a hand, a habit she’d quickly picked up once learning it was a common greeting. Echo shook her hand briefly before returning her arm to her side. The brief contact informed Clarke of a few things. First, this woman had fae-blood, half at least, so one full fae parent. Second, there was magic following through those veins, magic of a kind that felt uncomfortably peculiar. It was reminiscent of the Omega’s soothing, but subtler, more pervasively _fae_. The firestarter’s hackles went up at the touch of the fae magic and she flexed her hand surreptitiously behind her back to get rid of the sensation. Her pleasant smile never dropped though. It didn’t seem that the effect had been intentional and Clarke was unfortunately sensitized to the pervasive suggestiveness of this type of magic. It felt similar to Underhill’s control, although watered down by a factor of like a thousand. She resolved to avoid contact with Echo as much as possible, not that this was any different than how she felt about contact with the majority of others.

“I’m Clarke, this is my place, I’m the Alpha’s, um, girlfriend, I guess.” her voice stuttered a bit on the word girlfriend. She knew technically they were much more than that, but she’d never actually had to introduce herself like that before. Everyone in Aspen Creek already knew and it rarely needed to be addressed by the pack. “Anyway, you’ve already met Niylah and Octavia. You’re Echo, right?”

“Yeah, this is a wonderful home you’ve got here. It’s nice to meet you, Clarke.” Echo’s eyes were deep brown and kind, though Clarke still couldn’t quite shake the discomfort from the handshake. “Are you a werewolf too? I’ve never met any werewolves before coming here, but so far it seems like you guys are pretty cool.”

“No, I’m just human. Well, mostly human….I think.” Clarke beckoned Niylah and Echo into the living room and they all took seats as they waited for Raven and Octavia to join them. “And what’s your story? No one ends up here purely on accident.” Clarke wasn’t normally pushy when it came to sharing personal histories, but the town hadn’t had any newcomers since her and she couldn’t help but be curious.

“Well, it’s not really that interesting of a tale. I grew up on the Walla Walla Reservation with my mother. When she died, I had nothing keeping me there so I decided to get out while I could. I’m part-fae, as you’ve probably already heard, but I’m nothing special enough for the Grey Lords to care about so I left without much hassle. One of my buddies told me about this place and it sounded like as good a destination as any, so here I am.” Echo talked animatedly, using her hands to gesture as she spoke. Clarke found herself warming up a bit to the woman; she knew what it felt like to grow up feeling trapped.

“And we are happy to have you,” replied Niylah, bumping shoulders with Echo amiably.

Raven and Octavia used the lull in conversation to sweep into the room with armfuls of food and drinks.

“To the theater!” Raven declared dramatically, beginning to head to the basement before Clarke snags her by the arm and yanks her back to where she, Niylah, and Echo were standing.

“If I have to mind my manners, you do too, you delinquent!” Clarke admonished, holding Raven in place beside her as the mechanic pouted while juggling to keep the bowl of popcorn in her arms.

“Ugh, fine. My dearest apologies, mi’lady. ‘Tis my greatest honor to make your acquaintance,” the mechanic clasped Echo’s hand, executed an elaborate bow and kissed the hand as she winked up at the brunette. “You may call me Raven the iron-kissed. And what, praytell, might your name be, beautiful maiden?”

“Just Echo is fine.” Echo giggled at Raven’s over-the-top performance and responded with a tiny curtsey of her own.

“Now, onwards! To glory!” Raven let go of Echo’s hand and thrust out a hand as if holding an imaginary sword while galloping to the staircase leading to the basement.

They all followed the exuberant mechanic down to the in-home movie theater Lexa had installed in the basement of the cabin. Murphy and Jasper had actually been the ones to do most of the work installing all the tech and sound system, but Lexa had outfitted it with massive, comfy beanbags (being one of the few types of furniture that was as comfy for wolves as for humans) and a popcorn machine. One by one, they plopped onto their chosen seats and began arguing over what to watch. Niylah, unsurprisingly, was the one to settle the argument by placing the decision in Echo’s hands. After a brief perusal of their extensive collection, she chose a fan-favorite: _The Princess Bride_.

“Ha! I knew I liked you,” Raven joked, winking at Echo and stealing a handful of chips from the opened bag on Octavia’s lap.

“Hey! Excuse you, get your greasy, grimy, gopher-gut hands off my chips!” Octavia hollered as she shoved Raven off the beanbag they had been sharing.

The mechanic tumbled off the beanbag theatrically and struck a pose as if mortally wounded.

“How dare you?! I thought we were friends! And you treat me like this?” Raven threw a hand up to her forehead in mock despair.

Octavia swung a pillow at her friend’s head, which was quickly deflected and returned with a swipe of Raven’s own. Octavia’s retaliating swing ended up missing Raven completely and colliding with Clarke’s laughing face, drawing her into the battle. Things devolved into an all-out pillow fight, with Niylah and Echo taking cover behind a couch as war raged in front of them. The Omega just shook her head and chuckled as she waited for it to calm down.

“Are they always like this?” murmured Echo, eyebrow raised as she watched the battle.

“Pretty much, hun. You get used to it soon enough. You’d think this bunch would’ve matured past this by now, but...” Niylah petered off and shrugged.

Soon enough, the small-but-scrappy Octavia managed to get the upper hand, effectively ending the fight. She held both Clarke and Raven in a headlock and jokingly butted their heads together. The two were laughing too hard to put up more than a token resistance as they raised their hands in surrender. After that, they all settled back into their seats amidst the mess and started the movie. Clarke had never seen it before and had to deal with Octavia and Raven quoting along with practically every other line, including a live reenactment of Inigo Montoya’s and the Dread Pirate Roberts’ duel. Despite the interruptions, they all thoroughly enjoyed the movie and Clarke found that Echo had a great sense of humor. It was a dry, subtle humor that was a surprise, considering her quiet and almost shy demeanor.

“So, how’re you liking Aspen Creek so far?” asked Octavia as the credits rolled, chewing on a chocolate chip cookie and lounging legs splayed across Raven’s lap.

“I haven’t really seen a ton of it yet, but I like everything so far. It’s definitely better than Fairyland.” Echo replied from her spot curled up on a couch. “Bellamy’s pretty chill and it’s not as awkward staying at his place as I thought it might be.” This comment elicited an eyebrow raise from Octavia and she leaned forward, interested.

“Oh really?” Octavia was trying for nonchalant, and missed. “Why did you think it would be awkward?”

“Oh, you know, just living in a house with a guy you’ve never really met.” Echo shrugged and quirked a grin. “He’s kinda intimidating at first. He acts all gruff, but he’s actually pretty nice underneath all that.” A blush tinged the half-fae’s cheeks, betraying more than a casual interest.

“Uh huh, suuuuuuuuuurre.” Octavia drawled, nudging Echo with her foot to tease her. “And there’s nothing else?”

“Oh, stop it, O.” Clarke jumped in. “Leave the poor woman alone and stop trying to set people up with your brother. You’re just convinced that he’ll stay out of your business more if he has a girlfriend.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong, but still.” Octavia laughed and tossed another cookie in her mouth, not bothering to deny Clarke’s comment.

\----------------------------------

The girls’ nights become a new tradition as Lexa’s business trips grow more frequent. The Alpha insists she’s growing closer to catching the traitor with every call, but the passing weeks dull Clarke’s hope in that outcome becoming a reality. Clarke enjoys the time with her crew and getting to know Echo better. The new half-fae seemed to fit right in with the rest of the motley group of Aspen Creek, quickly finding friends and becoming part of the community.

Mid-December, Clarke discovers that the sweet half-fae has taken up helping Monty in his greenhouse. She’d stopped by to try talking Monty out of a few flowers from his hothouse to give to Lexa. Walking in, she was surprised to see Echo kneeling by a long row of rose bushes, dead-heading, instead of the ever-chill Monty. She seemed utterly at home, humming quietly as she worked. Clarke leaned against the doorframe after closing the door silently behind her, smiling slightly at the sight.

“How’s it goin’, Echo?”

The brunette startled at the sound of Clarke’s voice, narrowly avoiding clipping off a fingertip instead of a dead rose. She turned to see Clarke’s chuckling and smiled as well. She stood, dusting off her knees and stepped closer to say hello. She made as if to give Clarke a hug, but the blonde deftly backed up just a hair, still uncomfortable with physical contact outside of her immediate circle of Lexa, Raven, and Octavia. Echo picked up on the hint and shrugged it off without being offended. That was one thing Clarke appreciated about the woman. She took most things in stride with a nonchalance and understated steel backbone.

“Clarke! What brings you here?”

“I was actually looking for Monty. I was hoping he’d let me take some flowers for Lexa. She gets home today and I wanted to do something nice.” Clarke rubbed at the back of her neck, almost a little embarrassed at the look Echo was giving her at the adorableness of the gesture.

“Ah! Clarke! I thought I heard a familiar voice out here!” Monty greeted as he walked out from the door connecting to the house with his characteristically wide grin and wide open arms.

He held out a fist, which Clarke bumped with her own and they exchanged a complicated series of handshakes and motions that Monty had insisted on creating once they’d become friends. It was something he did with everyone, a weird quirk of his that made him all the more endearing. Clarke was always smiling at the end. Monty had a gift for putting people at ease and it wasn’t just due to the lovingly grown cannabis plants in his hothouse. He had a green thumb, literal plant magic that brought every green thing around him to flourishing life. Clarke supposed his laid back attitude had a lot to do with spending so much time around growing things. Plants were soothing and required patience, even with magically enhanced abilities.

“So what brings my favorite firebender into my humble greenhouse?”

“Actually, I’m here for Lexa. I was hoping you’d be willing to part with some of your blooms.”

“Of course! Anything particular in mind?”

Monty and Clarke wandered through the rows of flowers, Echo following along and helping point out this one or that one that would look good in a bouquet together. They all chatted and caught up with each other. Monty talked about his latest homegrown marijuana strains and Jasper’s work with Dr. Nyko helping rehabilitate the Reapers that managed to escape after the massacre in Mount Weather. So far they’d been able to successfully revert all the captured wolves, including Harper and Diggs, who’d also been victims of Finn’s treachery. Lincoln had also been busy helping the ex-Reapers recover from their experiences. Werewolves were intimately familiar with violence and death, but the absolute loss of control and inhuman rage caused by the vampire drugs pumped into them was beyond any normal werewolf issues. The gentle giant was working wonders with the traumatized ex-Reapers, his seemingly infinite patience and imposing strength a perfect combo.

The topic then turned to Echo and her time in Aspen Creek. Everyone had noticed how close the half-fae had gotten with Bellamy and Clarke was burning with curiosity about the exact nature of their relationship. Bellamy was notoriously close-mouthed about anything regarding feelings, so Echo was the only other option if she wanted to figure out what was going on between the pair. The doe-eyed half-fae and shaggy-haired werewolf had begun spending almost all their time together after the first week or two of Echo moving in. Bellamy acted like a love struck puppy dog around her, his normally gruff exterior melting away when she was around. It was quite a relief for Octavia now that her brother had something to take up the time he normally used to be his overbearing older brother self. Echo was unexpectedly tight-lipped as well when Clarke tried to convince her to spill the details, though she turned a wondrous shade of tomato red whenever Clarke or Monty teased her about the shaggy werewolf. The firebug couldn’t help but be happy for them though, whatever their relationship might be. She didn’t know much about Bellamy beyond what Octavia told her, but he seemed to carry a weight on his shoulders that lifted when Echo was around. Everyone deserved to have more in this life than just surviving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there's a disappointing lack of Lexa in this chapter, but I'll try to make up for it next chapter ;). Look me up on tumblr at [yashaisbae](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/yashaisbae) to yell at me or whatever.
> 
> Also, you can thank [immochiball](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/immochiball) for the wonderful Lexacoon artwork! They are an absolutely FABULOUS artist and you should totally check them out!!


	3. She Hides Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa proves once more why she's the Commander. Clarke and Octavia get into trouble sticking their noses in where they don't belong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello there, guys, gals, and non-binary pals! Welcome to yet another chapter of shenanigans and fluff! Don't worry, the action is coming, just you wait ;). I've got some wonderful angst in store for y'all *rubs hands together evilly*. Shout out to RitteCreed for being an amazing human being and just all around swell gal! Enjoy ;)
> 
> PS. Any and all typos are 100% my fault. Let me know if you find any and I will happily fix them.

Silence enveloped the surrounding wood, the thick snow muting every sound. Muted sunlight filtered through ice-covered evergreens, lighting up patches of brilliant white in the otherwise dim forest. Bitter cold kept the forest-dwellers quiet and huddled in their holes and homes where they could conserve what warmth they had. The only sound marring the serenity was the occasional soft _plop_ of snow falling from branches that could no longer hold its weight. Despite this illusion of quiet, she knew she was being hunted. Eyes squinted against the glare of sunlight on pure snow, she could see no sign of her pursuer, but she didn’t need sight to tell her she was not alone. The hair on the back of her neck stood straight up and her spine tingled with the sensation of eyes tracking her. The fact that anyone could dog her steps in these forests was a sign of great skill and prowess in traversing the wilds. Lexa had spent over a hundred years on this land and it was tied into her very blood. She knew every inch of the terrain for miles in all directions, gained through long years of experience and as a consequence of inheriting her mother’s magic. The spirits of the land flowed through her awareness as vividly as physical sight or sound. She was just as much a part of this place as any rock or tree. No one stood a chance of catching her unawares here. She moved through the trees and underbrush with the ease of a fox, her human body relaxed though she was on high alert.

_There._ Her pursuer had misstepped, the muffled snap of a fallen branch revealing their location. Lexa sprinted ahead, leaping over a fallen trunk and dodging the skeletal branches of frozen briars, then suddenly juked to the side, diving fluidly into the hollow of a dead tree and curling into a tight ball. The sound of pursuit sped to keep up behind her, but faltered once she vanished from view and her footsteps stopped. The stalker stopped for several moments as if puzzled by the sudden disappearance of their prey. Lexa’s enhanced hearing picked up the confused shuffling of booted feet as they attempted to regain the trail. An expertly thrown stone cracked loudly in the silence far to the right of Lexa’s current hiding place and the pursuer bolted in that direction. Once the noise had faded far enough away, the Alpha rose like a phantom from the white powder, white jacket blending into her surroundings seamlessly and helping cover her distinct russet hair. Stealthy as a snow leopard, she stalked the predator-turned-prey on soundless feet. Her opponent climbed down into a small ravine that held a creek in the summer and crouched, inspecting the rock that Lexa had thrown. As soon as she had the high ground, the Alpha pounced. The slight squeak of her boots against the snow clued the target in to her leap and they spun around, but it was too late. Lexa was upon them, slamming them into the hard bed of the ravine, cushioned only slightly by a foot of snow.

“Gotcha.” Lexa chuckled as Anya spluttered and tried to brush the cold snow from her mouth and eyes. The Second muttered streams of profanity as she shoved Lexa off of her. The Alpha let herself roll onto the snow, laughing at Anya’s defeat.

“Fine, you win, whatever,” the disgruntled werewolf groaned, “let’s go get the rest of the damn pack. Your little fire imp is still in the game, last I heard.”

Lexa helped Anya up and they started prowling back in the direction of Clarke’s last known whereabouts.

\----------------------------------

“Ugh, I hate the snow. How is this supposed to be fun?” Clarke whined, huddling deeper into her massive timber grey winter jacket.

“Weren’t you born in Iceland or something? You’re supposed to be like some kind of Viking. And you can’t even handle a little cold?” Octavia questioned with raised eyebrows, snark laced through her tone. Clarke shuffled a few inches down along her perch on a thick tree branch to shove the werewolf playfully. O feigned a loss of balance and then pinwheeled her arms frantically as her butt slid on a patch of ice under her, barely managing to latch onto a limb above her before tumbling to the ground. Clarke muffled snorts of laughter at her expense with a thick glove as Octavia righted herself and leaned her back against the trunk, feet dangling on either side of her branch.

“Well yeah, but I haven’t lived there in literally over a thousand years. And I hate being cold. I can’t even warm myself up because you said using my fire would give us away.”

“Just like your incessant chattering will give us away if you both don’t shut up,” the curly-haired man crouched above them in the tree grumbled darkly.

Octavia and Clarke bit back amusement at Bellamy’s obvious irritation that they weren’t taking the competition seriously. Every year after the first big snowfall, the Aspen Creek pack competed with each other in a game that blended tag and hide-and-seek. It started off as a free-for-all, everyone racing off into the woods to find a hiding spot or a good place to start their hunt. Then the real fun starts. Each wolf (or whatever type of non-human you happened to be) has to use their enhanced senses and physical abilities to ambush the other players or beat them in mock battle. Once someone has been successfully caught, they join forces to hunt the rest of the pack. Lexa usually won, of course, and the pack always grumbled about her using her uncanny connection to the land to cheat, though never where she could overhear them. The rules were simple and easy enough to learn, it was just another way to keep Lexa’s wolves in fighting shape and test their mettle.

Bellamy was hell-bent on defeating the Alpha this year, regardless of how improbable that was. He had already found Clarke and been caught by Octavia and they were currently all hiding high up a fir tree, waiting for their chosen quarry to pass below. Clarke played along, as the Alpha’s mate was expected to, though her heart wasn’t really in it. She was competitive enough, sure, but it was cold and wet and she didn’t have the sense of smell or hearing to compete with the wolves. Her eyesight was almost on par, but that didn’t help much in the white-washed surroundings. The eager light in Lexa’s eyes when she’d announced the game was enough to sway her, so she relented and joined in. Bellamy had discovered her hiding spot easily, crouched down behind a snowbank within a hundred feet of the starting point, and recruited her to his team. Octavia had managed to get the drop on her brother, literally falling onto him from a tree above as he tracked her scent around in circles. He hadn’t taken that defeat with much grace and only grudgingly followed along as Octavia set off in pursuit of her mate.

Now, they’d clambered up another tree after dragging one of Octavia’s dirty shirts around, leaving a false trail she knew Lincoln would find and follow to their trap, oddly reminiscent of the one they’d laid to catch him a couple months ago when he was a Reaper. Sure enough, the light jacketed, graceful form of the big man came into view, crouched low and casting about for the next scent marker. Bellamy tensed, but Octavia was already flinging herself fearlessly out of the tree onto her mate’s back. She latched onto him and nipped lightly at the back of his exposed neck before giving him a quick peck and hopping down onto the ground. Lincoln spun around and caught her up into a deeper kiss until Bellamy and Clarke let out groans of complaint and fell out of the tree onto the soft cushion of a snowbank. Octavia threw a snowball at Clarke in retaliation for interrupting her makeout, but the firebug threw up a wall of heat, melting the snowball harmlessly before it could hit her. They laughed and continued their impromptu snowball fight until Bellamy lost patience and stalked off in a huff. The three caught up with him and spread out to search for another target. Clarke trailed behind, knowing she’d be useless in the search, but could be helpful as a rearguard. Lincoln soon spotted a set of tracks and they moved to follow them to the wolf responsible.

Several minutes later, movement flashed in the edge of her sight and she instinctively crouched and whipped her head in its direction. The forest was white-on-white, making it impossible to pick out the shape while whoever was stalking them was still. Clarke had a pretty good idea of who it was though, so she slowed her pace to fall back from the main group, not alerting them that they were being followed. A shape stirred again, catching her attention, ahead and to the right, another white-coated figure sliding silently along through the trees. It seemed that neither of the two stalkers had noticed her presence, hanging behind as she was. She grinned and lowered herself slowly onto the snow, not wanting to attract their attention by moving quickly. Waiting until they were all far enough ahead, she hurriedly dug a hole in a snowbank off to the side of the path of footprints and fit herself into it, covering herself completely with just enough room for shallow breaths. Trap set, all she needed now was to wait for it to be sprung.

\--------------------------------------------

Lexa and Anya ghosted along behind the party of wolves, flanking them from behind on either side. The Alpha had caught a whiff of her mate’s unmistakable scent of human, fire, and smoky sweetness with the group, but couldn’t yet spot her. Clarke had lasted surprisingly long in the game, much longer than anyone had expected her to. Lexa had honestly predicted that she would have given up and gone home hours ago, but the blonde persevered as stubbornly in this as she did in everything else. Refocusing on her targets, the brunette stilled her motions, shadowing the halt of the party they were stalking. Lincoln had held up a hand to signal Bellamy and Octavia to pause, sniffing the air as he sensed something in the woods around them with the shift of the breeze. His warning came too late, Lexa and Anya were already springing forward, the Alpha tackling Bellamy to the ground and the Second taking down Lincoln in a faceplant in the cold snow. Octavia tried to flee, but Lexa vaulted off Bellamy’s back and grappled the female wolf around the knees, carrying her into the snow with an _oomph_. Octavia swore a blue streak and scraped handfuls of snow out of her hood as Lexa stuck out a hand to help her to her feet. She accepted the proffered hand and ruefully backtracked with her to where the rest of the group were climbing back to their feet. Anya clapped Lincoln heartily on the back, sending a cloud of snowflakes flying off the front of his jacket and making him stumble forwards a step.

“Now, where’s Clarke?” Lexa asked, excitement tugging at the corner of her lips and head cocked wolfishly. Sister Wolf shone emerald in her normally dark green eyes, adrenaline coursing through her from the hunt.

“You didn’t already get her?” Octavia asked, looking around in confusion when she realized the blonde was conspicuously absent.

“She was right behind us a few minutes ago,” Lincoln replied quietly, “If she isn’t with you, then maybe she fell behind. Our best chance of finding her is probably by going back the way we came.”

The five werewolves retraced their path, ranging out in a line to cover more ground. The Alpha reached a spot in the snow along the path of their footprints that looked oddly muddled in a way she couldn’t quite parse. Lexa scented the frigid air, detecting her mate in the vicinity, but unable to pinpoint her exact location. A very recent scent mingled with the slightly older ones marking her group’s passage and alluding to Clarke’s nearness. The brunette leaned down and examined the disturbed snow for any sign of where her mate had gone. _**No one else has passed through here, so why is the snow so disturbed?**_ Sister Wolf mused. Realization hit her barely in time for her to look up before an explosion burst out of the nearby snowbank and a body rocketed into her still-crouched form. Her butt hit the packed snow with a _thump_ as the crafty blonde bowled her over. Clarke’s cold nose buried into Lexa’s neck, startling a small yip from the wolf.

“I win.” Clarke’s raspy voice whispered into her ear from where she hovered above the fallen Alpha. Clear blue eyes squinted smugly down at the surprise on Lexa’s face and strands of sunlight gold hair tickled her nose from where it had fallen out of Clarke’s hood.

Lexa hooked a leg around the blonde’s and flipped them easily, swapping places with Clarke now laying flat on her back in the snow. She bent down and nipped her little flame’s earlobe playfully before capturing her frigid lips in a heated kiss. This display of affection was cut short by an assault of snowballs thrown their way by the group of wolves just now catching up with them. The little Viking curled into a ball beneath the Alpha so Lexa took the brunt of the assault, using her mate’s body as a shield against the flying snow. Playful irritation flared in Lexa’s emerald eyes as snowballs pelted her thick coat from behind. As soon as the barrage waned, the pair laughed and leapt to their feet, chasing down the offending wolves with an attack of their own.

\-------------------------------------------

Within the next hour or two, the rest of the pack had been found and defeated, Lexa coming out on top as the clear winner, Clarke having been the only one to get the drop on her. _**As it should be**_ , Sister Wolf preened smugly. _That woman is too distracting for her own good_ , Lexa thought, _I never would have been caught off guard if it were anyone else._ The whole pack trudged through the woods back to the toasty Commander’s cabin for cups of hot cocoa and pumpkin bread, courtesy of Niylah, shoving each other and romping around in the snow like excited puppies the entire way. The Omega had declined to participate in the game, claiming she preferred the warmth of the indoors, having spent most of her life in the muggy heat of the South. No one minded much, as it meant hot treats were waiting for them at the end of their game. Niylah greeted each one of the snow-covered wolves with a hug or kiss on the cheek as they tramped into the entryway, shaking off snow and shedding their winter gear, and handed out mugs of her homemade cinnamon hot chocolate as the wolves settled in on the couches and bean bags scattered around the spacious living room. Lexa claimed her favorite sofa all to herself, as was proper for the queen of the hunt. Her mate strolled over to her, placing a steaming mug on the end table near Lexa’s head before sitting down in the brunette’s lap, Lexa happily readjusting to make room for her. Both Lexa and Sister Wolf soaked in the wonderful warmth and softness of their mate, pleased with her ingenuity and cleverness during the game.

“That was very well played, firebug,” Lexa murmured into the blonde’s ear. “No one has gotten the jump on me like that for a long time.”

Clarke chuckled happily and snuggled further into Lexa, happy to be out of the frigid Montana wilds and back in the home they shared. They lazed there, content to watch the pack play wrestle with each other and chat and enjoy each other’s touch. As the night drew later, they succumbed to the fatigue of the day and made their way upstairs to the privacy of their bedroom for the night.

\---------------------------------------

“Why are we here, O?” Clarke asked the werewolf exasperatedly, looking over to where Octavia was currently scrunched down in the driver’s seat of her beat-up Volkswagen Rabbit aiming military-grade binoculars at the windows of Grounders’ Diner.

“Shhhhh!” Octavia elbowed the firebender in the ribs to quiet her. “Bellamy said he was going out for dinner, but I know for a fact that tonight is homemade taco Tuesday! There’s no way he’d pass up on Linc’s cooking unless he was on a date.”

Clarke could make out the silhouettes of a guy and a girl sitting in a booth next to the corner window of Grounders’ from where their car sat parked down the street. It looked like it could be Bellamy, but she couldn’t make out enough detail to tell who the girl was. She could guess though. Echo was the only woman on Bell’s mind recently and everyone knew it.

“Grounder Pounder to Pocahontus, Grounder Pounder to Pocahontus. Are you there? Over.” A walkie talkie crackled to life from the cupholder. Octavia whipped around and grabbed it before Clarke could reach it.

“Miller, dude, Grounder Pounder? Really? That’s gross. And I told you my call sign is _Skairipa_! Over.”

“You can thank Brian for the nickname.” Miller’s chuckle filtered through the handheld radio. “Bellamy and Echo just walked in together like five minutes ago. I guess I owe you ten bucks. I could’ve sworn Bell wouldn’t have the balls to ask the new girl out for at least another week. Over.”

“Just goes to prove you should never bet against the dude’s sister. Now focus! What are they doing? Can you hear what they’re talking about? Over.”

Clarke had no clue how Octavia had managed to rope Miller in on her little recon mission. Or how she’d been dragged along either, for that matter. She leaned back in her seat, propping her feet up on the worn dash and shook her head at their ongoing conversation. O never seemed to shut up about how overbearing and nosy Bell was in her life, but here she was doing the exact same thing she always complained about. _It just runs in the family, I suppose._

Apparently now Bell was ordering a New York Strip steak with house-cut fries and a caramel milkshake and Echo was getting a veggie burger with extra grilled mushrooms, sweet potato fries, and a shake too. Why the details of their order mattered, only Odin knew. Oh wait, no, apparently Bell was offering to share his shake. Octavia’s eyebrows shot up so high they almost flew off her forehead. An excited elbow jabbed once more into her ribs to catch her attention.

“Clarke! Bell **never** shares his food! Do you know what this means?”

“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me anyway,” the blonde muttered under her breath, feigning crotchetiness at Octavia’s overwhelming exuberance. O just rolled her eyes and continued her excited whispering.

“Dude, it’s obviously true love. Nothing less than that would get ‘Mr. Get Your Own Damn Food’ to share a milkshake. And what’s up with the veggie burger?”

“O, not everyone is a ravening carnivore like you werewolves. Maybe she just doesn’t like meat? Or she just wanted to try the veggie burger.”

“What if she’s a _vegan?_ ” The disgust in Octavia’s tone when she said vegan had Clarke choking back laughter.

“Stop, O! You know she’s not a vegan! We just had a movie night where she ate half the pan of peanut butter brownies. I really doubt a vegan would do that without interrogating everyone about the ingredients. Come on, man, you’re being so weird about this. You _know_ Echo. And you like her. I thought you _wanted_ Bell to start dating someone?”

“I know, I know, I know.” The little werewolf dragged a deep breath in through her nose and exhaled a heavy sigh. “It’s just weird ‘cause I’m not used to him paying attention to anyone but me, you know? Not that it’s a bad thing. Maybe I’m just as overprotective as he is.”

Octavia and Clarke swapped the binoculars back and forth, the firebug finally getting curious enough to join in the espionage. Bellamy and Echo really were cute together. She got Bell to smile and laugh like no one else did. Bell was usually wound tight as a guitar string, but he loosened up around the half-fae brunette. You could see it in the way he lounged comfortably in the booth, one hand entangled with Echo’s. The sharp lines of Echo’s face faded to softer laughter lines and blushing cheeks whenever the shaggy werewolf made a joke or slung an arm around her shoulders. Echo was getting a crash course in how physically affectionate werewolves are and she seemed to be enjoying it. She hadn’t been nearly this touchy-feely with anyone else when she’d first arrived. Obviously Bellamy brought that side out of her in a way no one else had. The date seemed to be going well, if Clarke was any judge of body language. She quickly grew bored with Miller’s frequent reports and Octavia’s one-track focus and whiled away the time doodling in her sketchbook. Ever since Raven’s revelation of Lexa’s uncanny resemblance to a certain woodland creature, Clarke has been steadily collecting doodles of Lexacoon’s various adventures.

Her current sketch was inspired by an offhand comment from Anya a few days ago. Apparently, Lexa’s love for candles had resulted in some unfortunate mishaps involving close proximity with a lit wick and some wildly unkempt hair. Clarke was attempting to recreate the image with Lexacoon, the cute animal hugging a candle as the tip of her cheek fur begins to catch alight. _It seems Lexa’s always been drawn to fire_ , the firebug laughed to herself. Her charcoal pencil scritched jaggedly across the drawing as an elbow jabbed her in the ribs, _again_. She shot a scathing glare at Octavia, but the werewolf was practically vibrating with pent up excitement as she listened to Miller’s latest report.

“O! You gotta get outta there!” Miller whisper-shouted into the walkie-talkie. “Bellamy and Echo are leaving and heading right towards you! I think he saw your car outside. He looked kinda pissed then just stood up and walked out with Echo behind-”

The last part of Miller’s message was interrupted by a loud _slap_ on the glass next to Octavia’s head as she slouched low in her seat to try to hide. Bellamy’s glare felt like it was going to burn a hole in the window as he visibly swelled with the lecture he was about to deliver about respecting your sibling’s privacy and not being a nosy little asshole. O frantically turned the key in the ignition as Bellamy yanked on the car door handle, which was blessedly locked. The engine revived and wheels skidded on the icy pavement as she threw the car into gear and took off, Bell shouting as he stumbled back to avoid getting his foot run over. The two girls cackled at Bellamy’s receding form, his fists in the air and the sound of his yells getting fainter with every moment.

They drove to Raven’s garage, still whooping at their successful escape and somewhat less successful surveillance. MISSIO blasted in the background as they entered and the mechanic sat at a worktable fiddling with some complicated mess of metal and wires that Clarke couldn’t begin to guess the function of. She didn’t bother looking up when they walked in and collapsed on a derelict sofa, Octavia’s distinctive voice giving them away. Raven finished up whatever she was doing and wiped her hands clean with a rag she pulled from one of her many pockets before heading over to them and flopping across their laps. Clarke winced as a metal strut of the mechanic’s leg brace knocked against her knee and tugged a pillow out from under her butt to cushion it under Raven’s knee. The brunette held a thumbs up in thanks and began interrogating Octavia on their latest caper. O was more than happy to fill her in with Clarke butting in occasionally to correct the more exaggerated details of her retelling.

Clarke relaxed back into the deceptively comfortable couch and thought about how drastically her life had changed in a few short months. If someone had told her just a year ago that she would be sitting here at ease with close friends in complete safety, she would’ve decked them in the mouth and set fire to their ass for lying. It was inconceivable that she was free of Underhill, that she had a loving partner (even if they were still figuring out how to live with each other), that she was safe at last. The therapy sessions with Niylah had reduced her constant anxiety and guardedness, but Clarke still woke at night in a panic that this was all just a dream, another twisted tactic of Tilly to mess with her.

Thinking about her newfound friends was easier. Even if this was all just a vivid hallucination, she was amused by the drama Raven, Octavia, and Bellamy brought on themselves. Monty, Jasper, and Niylah were much more laid-back, but still managed to pull crazy stories out from their memories, like the one time Jasper had accidentally set an entire chemistry building on fire and when Niylah had been run out of town accused of being a witch after she’d seduced the pastor’s wife a few hundred years ago. Clarke hadn’t ever really considered her longevity before coming to Aspen Creek and it floored her just how long she’d spent trapped in the realm of the fae. She was technically older than every single person in the town, except for perhaps Lexa and Anya, as their ages were pretty much a mystery to everyone but themselves. Everything and everyone she’d known were long gone, reduced to dust and fragments of bone. _No, nope, Thor knows I can’t let myself go there._ Turning her thoughts back to the current conversation, she wondered at how old Echo was. Her past was still mostly blank as the newcomer seemed averse to discussing where she came from. Clarke couldn’t begrudge her reluctance. The blonde understood wanting to keep the past in the past better than anyone. She couldn’t help being a little jealous of how seamlessly the half-fae had slipped into the community though. She was the first to admit that she was prickly, but Echo had arrived and almost immediately been assimilated into the town’s everyday life. _I suppose it helps that there aren’t any monsters attacking the town or vampires abducting pack members._ But still, the way Echo melded into the fabric of Aspen Creek was almost uncanny.

_Stop being a paranoid little bitch, Clarke._ She admonished herself, shaking her head briefly to dismiss her thoughts. _You can’t go around suspecting every single person of ulterior motives. You are safe. No one here is going to try to hurt you._ She repeated this mantra over and over until her body relaxed again. She let go of the paranoia constantly swirling around her mind and let herself be caught up in the peace of her friends’ flowing conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo, what do you think? To mushy? I agree. This fluff is giving me cavities. Are y'all ready for my ladies to experience some more pain and suffering? Me too! So glad we're on the same page about this ;).  
> Please come yell at me or share your conspiracy theories over at [yashaisbae](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/yashaisbae). Thank you so much for being the most incredible readers!!! I love you all and stay safe!
> 
> Also, kudos to [mochiball](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/immochiball) for the incredibly [adorable art](https://64.media.tumblr.com/170109046be5f55623424aca2d2bba2f/tumblr_oyd8psyKju1qbjcpzo1_540.jpg)!


	4. Like A Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke makes a trip to the big city, with unintended consequences. Lexa gets a lead on Finn's location and takes Gustus to check it out.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: Graphic descriptions of violence, blood, and torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya gays, gals, and enby pals! Sooooo, this chapter takes a SHARP turn from the fluffy content of the previous chapters. There's gonna be some tying up of some loose ends and unraveling of others.
> 
> Buckle up, creampuffs!! Shit's 'bout to get real
> 
> PS. I made playlist for Lexa and Clarke AGES ago and kept forgetting to add the link, so here you go! [Lexa the Commander](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7imNkd6lgKffcMDhL05iuA?si=8A8hMXN4QIuUVIZ6ue-Pbg) and [Clarke Griffin](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4NB6pEaTnYth2Cvw3okVLJ?si=Ai_P52DDQIWYnDWmd4TUbA)

“So,” everyone paused at the sound of Echo’s voice, “do you guys celebrate Christmas around here?”

It was a rare moment where Lexa, Anya, and a fair part of the pack were all together relaxing at the cabin. A fragrant fire crackled in the fireplace, next to which Anya, Jasper, Raven, and Bellamy were engaged in a heated game of Exploding Kittens. At a nearby coffee table, a quieter but no less competitive Monopoly game went on between Clarke, Nyko, Lincoln, Octavia, and Murphy. Lexa declined to join in either game, electing instead to relax on a couch with a book. Echo was curled up near Bellamy, laughing at their cutthroat tactics, until she’d asked her question. The rest of the gang was hanging out in the basement, binging the latest season of Avatar: The Last Airbender.

“What’s Christmas?” Clarke piped up, ignoring the surprised looks shot in her direction.

“You don’t know what Christmas is?” Raven exclaimed. “What planet are you from?”

Clarke didn’t bother dignifying her response with anything other than an exasperated glare at the mechanic. It wasn’t her fault she’d spent the last millenia or so in a Wonderland-esque hellscape.

“Most of us here aren’t exactly strict Christians, but we do have a yearly holiday around that time.” Lexa replied, answering Echo’s question first as she closed her book and set it in her lap. “Clarke, Christmas is a religious holiday observed by a monotheistic religion called Christianity to celebrate the birth of their saviour. It is generally celebrated by gathering together with friends and family, giving gifts, and plenty of food. Within the last few decades, the holiday has become much more commercialized and less religious.”

“Oh, okay, so kind of like midwinter? We had something similar we called _Hjol_ back in my village, though it was a tribute to Baldur’s return from Hel and not a celebration of any saviour.”

The conversation continued, comparing and contrasting the various holidays this hodge-podge of people observed. It seemed most of the town were not on the best terms with conventional Christianity, but many of them enjoyed the town tradition of a huge potluck get together around New Year’s. Through the conversation, Clarke realized that she was going to need to figure out what the Hel you get as a gift for a centuries-old Native American werewolf. How do people even do gifts nowadays? In her village, gifts had been simple things, usually handmade or useful objects they knew were needed. Her father had given her a wristband inset with an intricate compass that had been her prize possession until it was lost hundreds of years ago in Underhill. Clarke had no idea what she could make or get for her friends in this time. No one seemed to really need anything she was able to provide. Maybe a drawing? Or a painting? People still seemed to value art nowadays. The few pieces of art she’d shown the pack had been well-received. She knew Lexa loved her art and was always happy to see more of it. Maybe she could have Raven teach her how to weld with her fire?

\------------------------------------------

And that’s how Clarke ended up driving her gun-metal blue Jeep down the empty, icy highway a few days later. Clarke hated cars. Mm, maybe _hate_ was an over exaggeration. She actually quite enjoyed the freedom of being able to travel wherever she liked at a pace faster than her own two feet. What she actually hated was roads, especially pot-holed, slick ones. This stretch of highway was notoriously neglected, which was normally a good thing as it kept unwanted visitors away from Aspen Creek, but right now it just meant that Clarke’s two-hour journey to Missoula was a gauntlet of black ice and teeth-jarringly sudden potholes. The firebender clenched her hands around the steering wheel as she cruised down the road, cursing as another patch of ice caused the wheels of the Jeep to slide. 

The speedometer barely broke 30 miles an hour as she drove, Clarke’s usual impatience overruled by her self-preservation instinct. Her fire was powerful enough to take care of most threats to her life, but it was useless when it came to car accidents. Lexa was supposed to have put the snow chains on her tires before Clarke drove anywhere outside Aspen Creek, but she’d been called out of town before she had the chance and this jaunt to the big city hadn’t exactly been planned. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision when she’d finally been struck by inspiration for what to create for Lexa’s midwinter present. She’d come up with an idea, but it required a canvas larger than any at the Trading Post. Echo had mentioned seeing a wonderful art supply shop in Missoula that she assured Clarke would have what she needed. Her friends had offered to come with her, but Clarke was actually looking forward to some time on her own to explore what normal life looked like now. Her sessions with Nylah had instilled enough confidence and security in the blonde for her to be comfortable being alone at least for the few hours it would take to get what she needed. No one was after her, so one wanted her dead, She had the Jeep Lexa had gifted her once the blonde had mastered (relatively speaking) the art of driving, on-board GPS, and a playlist of songs to keep her company. So here she was, chugging along down the highway humming along to some Hozier totally on her own for the first time since escaping Underhill. If Lexa had been in town, she would have insisted Clarke take someone with her as a precaution, but the Alpha had been called out of town on yet another tip of Finn’s whereabouts, so Clarke had managed to weasel her way out of a guard dog.

The song ‘Green Eyes’ by Coldplay rang out from her phone, startling her into jerking the steering wheel. _Shit!_ Clarke frantically straightened the car and pressed the answer button on her steering wheel. _Thank the gods Raven had hooked all this cell phone and blued teeth stuff up for me before I left._

“Little flame?” Lexa’s smooth voice filled the car from the speakers.

“Lexa! I can’t wait to see you tonight!”

“I’m sorry, love. I know that was the plan, but we caught Finn’s trail and if we wait we’ll lose him again.”

“I understand,” and she did, but it didn’t keep disappointment from flooding her. “Do you know how long it’ll be before you get that bastard?”

Lexa’s melodious chuckle brought a smile to Clarke’s face. “Mmm, this is why I love you, my little flame. It should be no longer than a day at most. I will be home hopefully by tomorrow afternoon.”

“I love you too, raccoon-eyes.”

“Ugh, you know I hate when you call me that. Damn that mechanic, you both are ruining my fearsome reputation.”

“Well, you’ll just have to prove how fierce you are, my love.” Clarke blew her mate a kiss through the phone before hanging up.

The change in travel plans meant Clarke had a little more time to sneakily buy the supplies for Lexa’s gift, thankfully, the weather had been crappy enough to slow her down enough that she’d been worried about being back in time for Lexa’s arrival. About half-way into her drive, a massive semi appeared on the horizon, heading in her direction. _What’s that doing all the way out here? The only thing this direction is Aspen Creek and national forestland_. She inched as close to the shoulder of the road as she could without hitting the rumble strips and slowed even further. The truck was approaching fast, much faster than what was safe in these conditions. Clarke’s hands were starting to heat up and sweat, uneasy with the dangerous behavior of the other driver. She decided to bite the bullet and try speeding up to pass the trucker quickly. The truck was 50 feet in front of her when it abruptly swerved into her lane. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck!_ She panicked and yanked on the steering wheel, managing to spin the Jeep just enough to avoid a complete head-on collision. The world tilted and rolled, tossing her like a ragdoll as the car flipped over and over across the icy asphalt as the truck screeched to a stop.

She clawed her way blearily to consciousness, head throbbing in pain. A steady _drip drip drip_ filled her ears and she glanced up, no wait _down_ , at the roof below her where vivid red drops added to the spreading puddle of blood. Pain lanced through her left arm when she tried bringing it to her forehead and she grunted through gritted teeth. Her thoughts came clearer with every moment and she realized she was pinned to her seat by both her seatbelt and the mangled steering column jabbing agonizingly into her thigh.

Footsteps crunched on broken glass and the driver’s door was wrenched from the car. Clarke could only make out a dark form as they cut her free and let her drop to the roof on her injured arm. White flashed behind her eyes and she almost vomited with the pain. The figure dragged her out onto the freezing blacktop and shattered glass. She must have hit her head in the crash because everything was getting hazy again and she couldn’t focus on the words being spoken to her. She assumed the truck driver was saving her from the wreck until they slapped manacles around her wrists. Pain from her abused arm made her hiss once more as her captor wrenched her onto her feet. Her leg buckled beneath her, jostling her arm and making her black out as her body decided it couldn’t handle the pain.

\-------------------------------------

The jolting movement of her body on the floor of a moving truck woke her. She blinked blurry eyes to see herself surrounded by the metal walls of a cargo truck. Her hands had been bound in cold silver and she noticed the pain in her arm and leg had dulled, though deep red bruises remained. Either she was unconscious for a lot longer than she had thought or someone had healed her partially. She summoned the fire that lived in her blood to melt off her restraints, but nothing happened. Again, she tried to ignite her flames, but all that occurred was a twinge of pain in her hand as it flexed. _What in Frey’s name is wrong with me? I’ve never had trouble using my fire before._ She felt gently over her head, guessing that a head injury could be what’s screwing with her. Her fingers found plenty of scrapes and one particularly ugly gash on her forehead, but nothing that seemed bad enough to cause a major concussion.

Rolling onto her knees, she stood on the rocking floor of the truck and examined where she was. The interior was completely bare except for her. She tried opening the doors in the back, but they wouldn’t budge. _Fuck!_ If she only had her fire, she would out of this damnable truck in moments. The rattling of chains reminded her of her bindings and she lifted them closer to her face. Faint light filtered in through the cracks between the doors, giving her just enough illumination to make out faint markings engraved in the metal. _Thor’s balls, they must be enchanted._ Tilly had shown her similar types of enchantments, usually as a threat if Clarke wasn’t acting the way she wanted. She realized she was shivering in the unheated winter air inside the truck, unable to warm herself with anything more than her thin layers of clothes. 

Making her way carefully to where the cab of the truck should be, she banged her fists on the wall, hoping that whoever was driving could hear her. She couldn’t hear any responses, so she continued until the sharp pain returning in the bones of her arm forced her to stop. Turning her back to the wall, she slumped down and fiddled with the cuffs on her wrists, trying to find any weakness in their construction. Anything to keep her from the welling tide coming from deep in her gut. _Fuck_. The dim light flickered, the walls shifted to dirt and stone, the wooden slats of the floor changing to cold rock. _No, no, no, I am not back there._ Her vision wavered between her present and past, swirling together until she couldn’t distinguish between them. Cold air rushed into her lungs as they worked like bellows. Her head throbbed, thick bands of steel collapsing around her chest. _Please, gods, no._

Niylah’s honey-smooth voice trickled in past the ringing in Clarke’s ears. _Clarke, breathe. In 1, 2, 3, 4…Out 2, 3, 4, 5…_ She tried following the breathing exercises Niylah had taught her. _Clarke, where are you? Tell me what you see._ She squeezed her eyes closed before opening them wide and attempting to focus on what was around her. _List five things you see_. Okay, one: the ripped dark jeans she was wearing, bloody holes torn in the knees where they’d hit against glass and pavement. Two: wood boards beneath her, stained and scratched. Three: silver handcuffs clamped tight around her wrists. At that, her breathing stuttered erratically, falling out of the pattern she’d worked so hard to maintain. _It’s okay, sweetheart, just start back at the beginning. Breathe with me and then tell me five things you see_. In 1, 2, 3, 4… Out 2, 3, 4, 5… One: jeans. Two: floorboards. Three: chipped black nail polish from when Octavia had convinced her to indulge in a spa day. Four: dried blood, blood splattered against silver-veined marble, hands stretched out towards her, screams piercing her ears. _No, hun, let’s start again, love._ Five things she could see, four things she could feel, three things she could hear, two things she could smell, one thing she could taste. Clarke ran through the steps Niylah had taught her for escaping flashbacks over and over again until she was firmly anchored in the present.

_Think this through, Clarke._ She scolded herself as soon as her mind cleared. _Who could have done this?_ She racked her brain for answers, but came up empty. There was too much fuzz left over from the accident and panic attack. Feeling more helpless than she had in a long time, she curled on her side into a tight ball, shivering in the cold, and waited for something to happen that she could work with.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Two thousand miles away, Lexa sat in a car, exercising some deep breathing of her own. She and Gustus had flown out to Pennsylvania on a tip from a member of the Delphi River Pack that their Alpha was sheltering a known traitor. They had taken Lexa’s private jet, piloted by a wolf named Sinclair, and landed discreetly in a small airfield on the border between Pennsylvania and New Jersey before taking a rental SUV to their destination.

Lexa hated cars, they were small and confining and she couldn’t sense the world properly through the thick metal and glass. She hated feeling cut off from the earth; it was like being blindfolded and deafened. Airplanes were bad enough, but they at least made up for it by being the fastest way to travel. Cars were just metal boxes hurtling themselves through space with no regard to what was around them. If Lexa had her way, she’d travel exclusively by foot and motorcycle, wind rushing through her hair and her heart beating in time with the pulse of the earth. Unfortunately, even the Commander of werewolves couldn’t always have things their way. So she endured the drive through Pennsylvania snow in silence, trusting Gustus to get them where they needed to go.

They hadn’t told any of the resident pack that they were coming, not wanting to tip off the Alpha who would undoubtedly let Finn escape. The wolf who had called them--Fox, ironic name for a werewolf--was waiting for them at her home.

The black SUV pulled up outside a cheap-looking apartment complex about fifteen minutes outside the town of Delphi Springs. The Commander and her Third climbed out and approached the weathered entrance. The door was electronically locked, so Gustus buzzed the wolf’s apartment. No one replied, but the door made a noise and clicked open, letting them in. They climbed the three floors and knocked on the door for apartment 312. Lexa could see the shadow of an eye looking through the peephole before the door opened just enough for a sliver of a narrow face to be seen through the crack. The woman glanced at Lexa and appraised Gustus briefly, then closed again, a chain rattled, and the door opened fully to reveal a skinny woman with long dark hair. She looked much younger than Lexa had expected, definitely younger than the 20 years the Commander knew her to be. The woman clenched an arm around her middle, but didn’t smell of anything more than nerves. _**Good, she should be nervous.**_ **__**_Hush, Wolf, we are here to help, not hurt. At least, not hurt her._

“Hello, you must be the Commander,” Fox said, stepping back to let them in and bowing her head. “I wasn’t expecting you here this quickly, I only called you this morning.”

“We deemed the matter important enough to arrive as fast as possible,” Gustus replied. 

Whenever they traveled into less familiar territory, Gustus assumed the role of the Commander. This allowed Lexa to observe from the sidelines, feeling out the situation, until she was ready to make her move. Masking the power of her presence had become second nature to her, hiding behind an air of just enough submissiveness to make others discount her as a threat. Lexa preferred a subtle approach, it never served well to show one’s hand too early. Dominance was a complicated thing in werewolves. The nature of a wolf’s dominance was a combination of force of personality, strength of will, physical ability, and something _other_ that can’t be explained by anyone without the eyes, ears, and nose of a predator. Willingness to fight could be one definition of that otherness. A wolf’s level of dominance fluctuated as those factors changed throughout their life, but being within a pack helped to cement their place in the hierarchy. Werewolves instinctively recognize whether another wolf is more or less dominant than they, but in circumstances where two wolves were near equal dominance, the Alpha often allowed a fight between them to settle their place. These fights were rarely fatal and generally kept the pack happy and at peace. The Alpha was the most dominant wolf within the pack, with the Second and Third following in dominance. The ability to mask one’s natural dominance was rare and even more rarely regarded as advantageous. Most wolves, and men for that matter, preferred to face things head on, beating anything that opposed them into submission. Lexa quickly learned that being unnoticed opened doors that upfront battering never could and had perfected the skill of hiding what she was when necessary. At heart, she was an ambush predator through and through. So Gustus took the lead in these cases and she hung back like a mid-tier dominant would, there for backup, but otherwise unimportant.

“Oh, okay. Do you have a place to sleep tonight? My apartment’s not very big, but you are welcome to it.” Fox stood in the middle of her living room still looking nervous, though her scent was more excited than fearful. She was definitely intimidated by the giant, black-bearded man looming in front of her, but not afraid for her safety. _Hmm, I like her,_ Lexa remarked to her soul sister, Sister Wolf. _**She seems to be a brave one, willing to defy her Alpha when she knew he was in the wrong,**_ Sister Wolf replied with a huff of approval. 

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. We plan on solving our problem tonight. Now, before we go to the pack house, tell us everything you know about your Alpha’s actions and the traitor he is sheltering.” Gustus’ voice was gruff, but unthreatening, and his body language was relaxed: arms held at his sides and weight carrying on his back foot, looking for all the world like this was a mere social visit between friends. Fox motioned to her worn couch and sat across from it on a low ottoman. The Alpha and her Third took seats on the couch, Gustus leaning back and spreading his arms across the back of the couch. Lexa assumed a more alert position, perching on the edge of the couch and intently surveying the apartment and werewolf in front of her. Fox took her que from Gustus and relaxed and began her story.

“All I know about the traitor is what all the packs were told by the Commander, by you, just that he had broken your trust and had fled before facing justice. We never heard any of the details, but we were all given a picture of him and instructions to report him to the Commander if we spotted him. My Alpha, Tybe Winters, has always made it clear that he doesn’t respect your authority, though he’d never admit it to your face. A few weeks ago, he started getting, I don’t know...weird, I guess. He started forbidding the pack from being at his house at certain times and hiding out in his office for private phone calls. We could all tell there was someone new in the house, we could smell him and one of the guest rooms in the house would always be closed and locked. Our Second tried asking about it, but Tybe just beat him to a pulp and yelled at us to never talk about it to anyone. Then, two days ago I was over at his house after work and the guest room door opened. This guy with floppy black hair and puppy-dog brown eyes walked out and went into the kitchen. I only got the one glimpse, but I’m pretty good with faces and I recognized him from the photo of the traitor. I would’ve called sooner, but it took some mental gymnastics to figure out a way around his order not to tell anyone. I eventually decided that the Commander’s orders outranked my Alpha’s and somehow that was enough to let me pick up the phone and call you.”

“It was well done, Fox.” The warmth in Gustus husky voice fled and turned to ice-cold rage as he continued. “This coward cost us many lives and almost destroyed one who I love like family. It’s about time that he pays for his faithless deeds. Now, is your Alpha currently at home?”

“As far as I know, yes. But when I went over today that guest room was empty and everything smelled like bleach. I swear I didn’t tell anyone that I called you.”

“We believe you, don’t worry. If your Alpha was acting as suspiciously as you say, it could be that he tapped the pack’s phones to make sure no one ratted him out. You should come with us to the pack house, you’re safer with us. Do you have a car?”

At Fox’s nod, Gustus rose and motioned for the other wolf to follow them down the stairs. Lexa trailed behind, noting the unremarkable white Toyota sedan Fox got into and they followed her in their big black SUV. On the drive over, Lexa called her mate and let her know that ther trip would take longer than the single day she had planned. She hadn’t expected to actually get this close to finding Finn. It took only fifteen minutes to reach the large colonial style mansion housing the Delphi Pack’s Alpha. Fox and Gustus parked their cars in the long driveway in front of the grand entrance and got out. Gustus led the way into the mansion, not bothering to knock on the door before striding inside like he owned the place. The building seemed empty for the most part and any trace of Finn’s scent had been erased by the caustic odor of industrial cleaners. The three wolves made their way into the main living room of the house where a man almost as large as Gustus with wild black hair and an unkempt beard stood waiting. Yellow eyes shone from beneath prominent brows, thin lips twisted in a sneer, and arms crossed tightly across his chest. Tension and arrogance radiated from him like rancid cologne. He knew exactly why they were here and what they wanted.

“What are you doing in my home, Commander? I don’t recall summoning you all the way out here.” Tybe’s tone was just shy of insolent, not yet defiant but skirting the edge. This Alpha had never met the Commander in person, only communicating over the phone or through Lexa’s representatives, but the aura of sheer power surrounding Gustus left Tybe without a doubt as to who had just walked into his house. The wolf was fairly new to his position, the previous Alpha had been killed in an unfortunate incident involving a troll and he had been Second at the time. Lexa had allowed him to keep the position, as he seemed competent enough and there was no other wolf in the pack she could trust was strong enough to keep the peace. Now he revealed his true colors.

Gustus didn’t deign to respond to the challenge inherent in the Alpha’s words. He only approached slowly from the hallway and stopped in the center of the room, arms hanging loosely at his side and posture confident. He stood waiting, silence oppressive in the large room. From a hallway off to the right, four other werewolves strode into the room, lining up behind Tybe and glaring at the visitors, though they were careful not to meet Gustus’ eyes. Their wariness did not extend to Fox or Lexa. One by one they stared Fox down with shining wolf-yellow irises until she dropped her gaze. As for Lexa, they tried to evoke any kind of response, but she carefully kept her eyes focused on a point on Tybe’s face, just to the left of his nose, and maintained her disguise as the Commander’s loyal sidekick.

“I don’t know what you’ve been told to lure you all the way out here, but that little rat next to you tells nothing but lies. She’s just a spiteful bitch.” The Alpha spat, anger roiling out like a heatwave. That anger still couldn’t quite mask the tinge of fear souring his scent as he tried to meet Gustus’ eyes and failed. He was barely dominant enough to hold onto his position. It was a wonder he had managed to stay Alpha for this long. Tybe was all bluster and showy arrogance. The man underneath was nothing but a bully.

Lexa hung behind silently, gauging the feeling of the room and the natural dominance of the other wolves. The wolf standing directly to Tybe’s left was most likely his Second. He smelled of guilt, but also of defiance aimed, surprisingly, at his Alpha. _**He might be a sufficient replacement when we kill this bastard**. I agree._ She had almost everything she needed to decide what to do here. The only remaining mystery was where Finn had scurried off to. Gustus stalked forward until he was nose-to-nose with Tybe.

“Where is Finn Collins?” He growled, the rough bass of his voice rumbling like a clap of thunder.

Tybe held his composure and minutes ticked by, sweat trickling down his temple under Gustus’ intensity. Finally, he could no longer resist the urge to snarl at Gustus and back away, bumping into the men behind him.

“He’s at the safe house,” Tybe bit out, knowing that lying was useless. “But you’ll never make it there.” He ripped off his shirt, revealing a hairy barrel chest. “ I challenge you, Commander. You don’t deserve the right to rule us!” He snarled again and shoved Gustus back, not managing to budge him an inch.

“Enough,” Lexa stepped forward, dropping her submissive guise and letting her true strength wash through the room. “I accept your challenge for the title of Commander.”

Gustus looked back at her, a question in his eyes. She gave him a nearly imperceptible nod and he backed off to stand at her side. Tybe scoffed at the woman standing before him, she was at least a head shorter and a hundred pounds lighter.

“ _You_ are the Commander? In that case, this shouldn’t take long.” He scoffed and began to strip off the rest of his clothes. “We fight now, as wolves.”

Lexa nodded in acceptance and the other werewolves in the room began clearing away furniture, leaving the floor clear for the fight. She took a few moments to seal off the mate bond between her and Clarke. If she was hurt in the fight, she didn’t want her little flame to feel it and worry. She hated choking off their connection, but it was only temporary. Clarke had enough to deal with without having Lexa’s problems leak through as well. Lexa waited until Tybe was fully shifted to wolf before removing her own clothes and taking a few steps forward, rippling from woman to wolf in the space between one step and the next. Her display of uncanny power seemed to unsettle the Delphi River Pack members in the living room. 

She studied Tybe, he was large as a wolf, almost the size of a young black bear, and covered in coarse walnut-brown fur flecked with grey. His yellow eyes tracked her as they circled each other. Their paws made no sound on the marble tiles, claws sheathed like a tiger’s until needed. He seemed far too confident in his ability to defeat her, but that was the way she liked it. Overconfidence paved the way to defeat. 

As she expected, he lunged recklessly at her, teeth snapping for her throat but meeting only air. She had easily dodged to the right and swiped her claws along his shoulder, leaving four bleeding gashes in her wake. He spun and tried to catch her foreleg in his maw, but missed again. Lexa moved like lightning, too quick for this brute to catch. They exchanged a series of blows and lunges, bone cracking as hits connected. None of the bones were the Commander’s, she accumulated only shallow cuts while Tybe now limped on three paws and blood streamed into his eye from a shredded ear. Lexa decided it was time enough for this to be over. She feinted toward his remaining functional foreleg and when he moved to defend himself, redirected her strike to snap her teeth into his throat and ripped down. He staggered sideways for a second or two, blood gushing from the gaping wound that used to be his throat, gurgling for air. Lexa spit out the chunk of flesh and leapt onto his back, clamping her jaws around his spine and crushing it. She stepped off his now cooling body and turned to face the remaining werewolves. They all dropped to their knees and bowed their heads in acceptance of her victory, not a one offering a challenge. She shifted back to human form, clothes rippling over her skin, simple black tee tucked into black jeans and combat boots, though blood still clung to her.

“You,” she gestured to the wolf she’d identified as the Second, “give us the address to this safe house. After that, you are assigned as Alpha for the time being. If you do well, you will be allowed to keep the position. Fail me and you will meet the same fate as Tybe Winters.”

The new Alpha nodded his head brusquely and sent one of his wolves off to fetch a pen and paper. When the wolf returned, the Alpha--Lexa learned his name was Ilian--jotted down the safe house address and Gustus and Lexa left, trusting Fox to return home okay on her own. Excitement and the thrill of a hunt near completion flowed through her veins. Sister Wolf kept up a steady growl that seemed to vibrate through Lexa’s spine. The GPS directed them to a small house in a nice neighborhood with a single car out front. Lights in the house signalled that someone was home, so Lexa directed Gustus around the back while she strode up to the front. She tamped down the electric adrenaline and calmed herself to a perfect readiness as she pulled pack magic around the house to form a soundproof bubble around the house. She couldn’t afford someone hearing what was about to go down and calling the police. There was no way they were letting this cockwaffle escape again. She kicked down the front door and walked inside to find Finn scrambling off the couch in a panic and running towards the back door. Sister Wolf revelled in his fear and stalked him deliberately through the living room to the kitchen where the rat ran directly into Gustus’ waiting arms. The Third picked Finn up by the neck and dragged him back into the living room. This pathetic little shitstain didn’t deserve a fair challenge. He lived as a coward and would die as one too. Gustus pinned him onto the floor, pressing a knee against his neck and pinning his arms to the ground, as Lexa pulled a wicked butterfly knife from her pocket. 

Finn struggled to free himself, pushing up against the Third’s immovable weight and legs scrabbling frantically on the ugly beige carpet. His usually handsome face was contorted in an expression of pure terror, mouth opened in a grimace as he whimpered for mercy. She circled the writhing form of the traitor, flicking her knife open and shut with an impassive expression on her face. When she reached his head, she squatted down and met his gaze. She let the leash holding back her inner beast slip, inky black seeping through green irises as an unholy grin bared her teeth. A puddle formed under Finn's crotch, the smell of urine rising pungently in the air.

“Finn Collins, you are found guilty of betraying the Aspen Creek Pack, enabling the capture, torture and death of countless werewolves, and the kidnapping of your Commander. For your crimes, you will suffer Death by One Thousand Cuts.” Now she leaned down to whisper directly into his ear, voice slipping into a poisonous whisper. “I hope you live long enough to feel every single one of them.” 

With those words, she drew the balisong down the length of his ribs, tearing through his shirt and splitting skin. He shrieked as the pain and burn of silver hit him. His blood sizzled along the length of Lexa’s knife. Her father had commissioned this knife special for her decades ago as a gift and symbol of what he expected from her. The gleaming blade was edged in pure silver, spotless surface interrupted only by the flowing script of a Trikru phrase: _Jus drein, jus daun_. This knife was a ceremonial blade, used only when punishing the most grievous crimes against her authority. 

The blade flashed in the ceiling lights as Lexa drew it slowly across his body over and over again. She named every wolf that had been lost to the Mountain (Quin, Atom, Dax, Roma…) as she carved his flesh, spilling his blood in exchange for theirs with each wound. Finn tried to kick and squirm free, but Gustus was heavy as a boulder on top of him. He managed to connect a knee with Lexa’s side at one point and she growled in annoyance. Sister Wolf wanted to feel his blood coat her teeth, but Lexa knew if she shifted it would be over too quickly. The knife dug into his stomach as she threw a leg over his waist and straddled him, pinning his legs in place as thoroughly as his arms. Bleeding gashes littered his skin and a crimson pooled around his still thrashing body as the Commander worked. Finn’s eyes bulged from his head when Lexa finally lost patience with his screams and cleanly severed his vocal chords. Hoarse gasps escaped his ruined throat as he strained to howl in agony that gradually weakened until he eventually lost consciousness. He hadn’t even lasted through a hundred of the thousand cuts. As soon he succumbed to unconsciousness, Lexa placed her hands on either side of Finn’s neck and jerked, a sickly _crack_ splitting the air as his neck broke. She paused a moment more then slit his throat for good measure. 

She and Gustus both rose from the now unrecognizable corpse and washed up in the kitchen as best they could before driving back to the pack house for the night. Ilian played the gracious host, giving them each a suite and providing all the necessities. Lexa made sure he knew of the body left in the safe house and he sent his cleaning crew to go take care of the mess. With no more pressing matters at hand, Lexa finally retreated to her room. Her body sagged with exhaustion as everything hit her at once. Relief and tiredness weighed down her limbs as she made her way into the ensuite bathroom. As she showered off the blood staining her skin, she reopened the link to her mate. Nothing flowed through but restlessness and the fog of sleep, which wasn’t unusual for the blonde; sleep was never something that came easily for her. Lexa laid down on the soft bed and let herself drift to sleep as well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do y'all remember in Howl when I asked if you'd prefer Clarke or Lexa to be kidnapped? Well, to everyone who responded Clarke, here you go. I MADE THIS FOR YOU! Mwahahahaha!! *blows a kiss*
> 
> Come yell at me or whatever over on tumblr at [yashaisbae](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/yashaisbae).


	5. Does She Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke discovers who kidnapped her. Lexa discovers her mate is kidnapped. Lincoln and Octavia do their best to follow Clarke's trail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there guys, gals, and enby pals! Here: a chapter for you. Be blessed.
> 
> Okay, but really, I love you guys! Y'all are the best and are the reason I exist. Work is gonna a shitstorm for the next few weeks, so I can't promise to keep to my usual posting schedule. I will do my best to keep up with it though!

She felt the truck slowing and rose into a low crouch, ready to leap out the moment those large metal doors opened. The truck came to a complete stop in a squealing of brakes and she heard the steady grumble of the engine cease with a cough. Footsteps sounded on gravel, hopping out from the cab and approaching around the side to the back. The sound of metal grating against metal as the latches that secured the doors were unlocked and the door creaked open . Clarke was blinded by bright sunlight lancing through the opening door. She blinked rapidly, trying to adjust her eyes and was rewarded by the sight of a silhouette stepping into the truck bed. She launched herself forward, driving her shoulder into the figure’s stomach and shoving them both back out of the truck. 

They hit the ground hard, Clarke’s impact cushioned by her kidnapper’s body. She scrambled to her feet awkwardly, bound hands slowing her down, and started sprinting down the aisle of parked trucks, screaming her lungs out for help. Cursing and heavy footsteps echoed behind her, catching up swiftly. She tried to dodge down an alley between two empty trucks, but a hand snatched the hem of her shirt from behind and yanked her back. _Oof._ Her lungs emptied of breath violently as she hit the sharp gravel and her head bounced off the rocks, jarring her senseless. A heavy body straddled her, keeping her pinned as she struggled. Large, gloved hands gripped her wrists by the chain of the manacles and held them down. Clarke hooked her leg behind the man’s knee and bucked her hips, throwing him off balance and flipping their positions. As soon as her attacker’s back hit the gravel, she was up and running again. She made it fifty more feet before two needles of pain followed by a surge of paralyzing electricity hit her. Her body seized uncontrollably and she collapsed onto her face, gravel scattering as her limbs spasmed. White flashed across her vision and her thoughts skipped like a broken record.

Before she could recover, muscles still twitching, the man grabbed her arms and dragged her back to the truck. The tendons in her shoulders shrieked with pain and hot metallic blood dribbled down her chin from a bitten tongue. The man’s gruff voice muttered swears under his breath as Clarke tried to regain control of her muscles. She was just barely able to move her head enough to look up at the person dragging her. She saw a tall, broad man with long ditch-water brown hair and a scruffy beard of the same color. He was handsome, in a rugged kind of way. He wore tan work boots, blue jeans, and a thick denim jacket, looking every inch the average trucker. Clarke would have to blind to miss the sense of _other_ emanating from him though. She’d spent far too much time in Underhill not to recognize a Fae, glamour or no. The only thing she couldn’t figure out was what kind, she needed skin-to-skin contact in order to feel the flavor of his magic. He lifted her effortlessly and tossed her onto the wood slats on the floor of the truck, the impact sending throbbing pain down her abused body.

“Looks like the great _Wanheda_ is human after all.” The man wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, a smear of blood marring the black leather of his glove. “My mother made you out to be some kind of monster.” He spat a wad of red to the side and climbed up next to her.

“Who the **fuck** are you and why the **hell** am I here?” Clarke snarled at her captor.

“You don’t look like you’re in any position to be asking questions, girl.”

Clarke lunged for him and managed to slam him against the wall of the truck and hands wrapped around his throat. The contact only lasted an instant before he kicked her off, but it was enough for her to get the gist of what he was.

“You’re Ice Court,” she hissed, scrambling backwards until her back hit the opposite wall. “I killed you, all of you. How are you not dead?” The metallic tang of frozen blood and black ice coated her tongue, the residue of his brand of fae.

“Mostly. My father was only half-Fae. You can call me Roan. And no, you didn’t quite murder us all.” He sneered down at her, rising to his feet and looming over six feet tall. “Now, I was going to let you go use the bathroom, but I don’t think I can trust you.” With that he hopped back to the gravel and locked the doors, sealing her in the dark.

She hurled herself to her feet and pounded her fists on the metal walls, following the sound of footsteps around to the cab. Once the engine started up again, she slumped to her knees, forehead braced against the wall, sweat mingling with tears of frustration on her cheeks. _Shit, no, shit, Frigg help me, this is way worse than I thought. How are any of them left?_ She fought against the panic threatening to overwhelm her, using the techniques Nylah had been teaching her to calm her breathing and control her heart rate. Despite her efforts, tears continued to drip down her chin. She tried to stretch her awareness down the bond to her mate, desperate for any kind of reassurance, but she felt nothing but the slightest hint of rage and desperation. As much as Lexa might love her, nothing could save Clarke now. Werewolf or no, it wouldn’t be enough to save her from whoever the new Ice Queen was. Clarke was well and truly alone. Again.

\-----------------------------------------------------

“Boss Bitch” rang out too loudly from Lexa’s phone beside her bed. She rolled over and checked the time, 4:37 AM. _It’s too fucking early for Anya to be calling for an update. **Something is wrong.**_

“Anya?” Lexa ground out huskily as she answered the phone.

“Lexa,” the Second’s voice had an uncharacteristically frantic edge to it, “have you heard from Clarke?”

“I talked to her hours ago, but I haven’t heard anything since. Why?” Adrenaline surged through the Alpha, jolting her to complete consciousness, and she focused on her link with Clarke, still just that uneasy sleep, but now she could sense a tinge of pain. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. She left a couple hours before sundown to go to the city. She needed art supplies for something and took the Jeep out on her own. But no one has heard from her since she left and she’s not answering her phone.”

“ **FUCK** , Anya! How could you let her go alone! She’s not like us! A car accident could kill her! Go find her!” She ordered her Second, command rippling thick from her throat.

“Of course, Commander. I’ve already sent Lincoln and Octavia out to find her. I tried to reach Bellamy as well, but he hasn’t been answering. I hope you found what you’re looking for out there because we need you.”

“Finn is dead. We’re heading home right now.” 

Hanging up, she ran to Gustus’ room and burst inside without knocking. He was already awake and putting clothes on.

“I heard, _Heda_. I will call Sinclair and tell him to ready the jet.”

Lexa rushed to change into some clothes and pack what little she had brought. Within five minutes, they had told Ilian that they had to leave unexpectedly and gotten into their SUV. Gustus floored it, taking advantage of the lack of traffic. They made it to the airstrip in twenty minutes, leaping out of the car and boarding the jet, trusting that one of the Delphi pack would take care of the SUV for them. Sinclair already had the jet up and running and they were able to take off much sooner than it would normally take. 

Lexa paced up and down the confined cabin, near frantic with dread and worry for her mate. Gustus sat in the farthest corner, doing his best to make himself small and as unnoticeable as possible (quite the task for such a bear of a man). Lexa’s thoughts roiled, seething with fury and fear and the animalistic need to destroy. Sister Wolf was beyond reason, beyond any thought other than for her mate. It took every ounce of control to keep her in check. Lexa’s skin itched and crawled with the urge to change, to give in to the wolf and tear apart _the world_ in search of Clarke. Her eyes blazed a green so bright it was almost demonic; her lips twisted in a snarl as growls rippled ceaselessly from her chest. A polite clearing of a throat behind her had her whipping around to face Gustus. The Third was scrunched so low in his chair that he seemed to almost be cowering. His gaze was glued to the floor and shoulders curled inwards submissively.

“ _ **What?!**_ ” Sister Wolf’s fury slipped out between Lexa’s clenched teeth as she glared emerald eyes at the man.

“Commander, please,” Gustus slipped from his seat onto his knees under the weight of Lexa’s regard, “I realize that you are worried,” he flinched as Lexa bared her teeth and took half a step closer, a growl ripping from her throat, “but if you don’t control yourself, Sinclair won’t be able to fly the plane and I won’t be able to maintain control either.”

Only then did Lexa register the beads of cold sweats at Gustus’ temples as he resisted the urge to shift to wolf. The less dominant wolf had no chance of overcoming the waves of emotion coming from Lexa and his instincts demanded that he turn to wolf and grovel before her. Lexa sensed Jacopo Sinclair was in a similar situation as he sat in the cockpit, plane luckily on autopilot as he clutched his head in his hands and panted for breath. Lexa closed her eyes and clenched every muscle in her body, drawing herself taught as a bowstring. One by one, she forced herself to relax each muscle, drawing in deep breaths and releasing them slowly. When the rage subsided to more manageable levels, she sank into lotus pose, eyes still closed. She spent the rest of the flight meditating, reaching down through the mate bond for any hint to where her love was heading. _Please, Clarke. Come back home. Just come home._

\--------------------------------

Lincoln sped down the dark highway, mounted headlights on full blast, lighting up the road so Octavia could scan for any sign of Clarke. They knew she had been heading to the city and this was the only way to get there. A glitter caught Octavia’s eye from the shoulder of the road ahead, shattered glass scattered across the ice.

“There!” She shouted and Lincoln swerved off the road, hitting the brakes, fishtailing a bit on the icy pavement.

They leapt out of the truck and scoured the area for any sign of their friend. All they found was a smashed wreck of her blue-grey Jeep, front passenger side completely caved in and the driver’s door ripped off its hinges. Beneath the odor of spilled gasoline and car fluids, they could smell blood, human blood. Congealed crimson was pooled on the roof of the car and smeared on the seat, but the trail stopped right outside of the car.

“Linc! Over here,” Octavia’s voice rang out from on the road. She was crouched down over what looked like skid marks from a semi-truck. “It looks like a semi veered into Clarke’s lane and hit her, but the semi’s gone. Maybe it was an accident? Maybe the truck driver took her to the hospital?”

“I don’t think so, O. If she was at a hospital, we should’ve gotten a call by now. Lexa made sure that Clarke had her license and emergency contacts set up as soon as Clarke learned to drive.”

“What else could it be? If she’s not here, where the hell is she?!”

Lincoln ignored his mate’s outburst and called Anya, updating her on what they found. 

“I found a scent at the wreck that wasn’t anyone I’ve met before. It smelled like Fae, but I don’t know enough about all the different kinds to figure out what it was. I think it was male, though, whoever took her. He carried her out of the car and up to where the semi skid marks are on the road, but that’s where the trail stops.”

Lincoln heard a _thump_ over the speaker as Anya slammed her fist into a wall.

“I’ve alerted the Commander on Clarke’s disappearance and she’s on her way back right now. She told me that they had found Finn and took care of him, so at least we have that. As soon as Lexa gets in, she’s going to want to know absolutely everything we can give her about what the fuck happened out there.”

Lincoln listened attentively as she instructed them to keep going to Missoula and check out the nearest hospitals for Clarke just to be sure. They spent the next several hours visiting all the hospitals in Missoula for unidentified blondes, but came up empty. Fate seemed to smile on them though, as Lincoln caught an unexpected clue. They had stopped for gas and as Lincoln opened his door, a whiff of a familiar scent hit him, human tinged with woodsmoke and molasses. He bolted out of the truck, following the scent. It continued getting stronger as he neared the rows of parked semi trucks, until he reached a recently vacated space. This was it! Clarke had been here! He sussed out signs of a struggle in the gravel, along with a few drops of blood that smelled like Clarke’s. Finally he had something he could use. Octavia caught up to him and together they questioned everyone at the truck stop , truckers, attendants, everyone they could find. They lucked out, some trucks had recently been broken into and the station had installed security cameras. 

Octavia and Lincoln watched the footage, catching glimpses of the fight between Roan and Clarke, Octavia swearing up a storm. The time stamp on the video put them several hours ahead, but a semi can only drive so fast in the middle of a Montana winter without getting pulled over. They could actually do this. They could save Clarke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I just starting getting super involved in this D&D stream called Witches of Woodside. It's set on a modern-day college campus in a world basically the same as this. Magic and non-human races exist, but they are forced to hide. Any slip-ups that reveal magic to mundane humans are taken care of by the Institute. The stream follows 5 students (plus a few NPCs) who end up getting stuck together when shit goes down at a frat party.
> 
> This stream is honestly one of the BEST things in my life right now. There's only 6 episodes right now, so it's not a major time commitment and it streams weekly on Twitch at BardCommunityCollege Monday nights 8pm (USA EDT). The VODs are up on Youtube at Fish Whisky.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for coming to my rant. You are free to continue on with your day.


	6. We Bleed the Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke attempts to escape yet again from her kidnapper. Lexa arrives back in Aspen Creek.
> 
> TW: Background character death, gore, blood, attempted murder(??, kind of *shrug*)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy guys, gals, and enby pals!!!
> 
> 😅 Guess who's not dead?! It's this bitch. Yup, I may be like 6 months late but I did the thing! I updated, finally! Sorry for the wait, my dudes. 2020 is over, thank the GODS. And 2021 is off to a decent start (fingers crossed). This is my formal apology to all my readers: forgive meeeeeeeee, I am a horrible excuse for a procrastinating bitch! I've been meaning to update this for months and just kept putting it off. I'm so sorry!!! To anyone who still cares enough to read, I love you!!! Thank you!!!
> 
> And as always, any and all mistakes are 100% my own.

Clarke’s ass hurt. That was what she noticed the most. She supposed that was the natural consequence of sitting for hours on a hardwood floor going 60 miles an hour on shitty Montana roads, or at least what she assumed was still Montana. She had no way of actually knowing where they were by now or what direction they had traveled. The panic that welled up in her at learning Roan was Ice Court had faded by around hour three. Now she was just pissed. Hours four and five were spent trying to pry the doors open from every conceivable angle. When she’d exhausted all those possibilities, she’d spent hours six through who fucking knows scouring each inch of the semi truck container from top to bottom. Her head hurt, her arm hurt, her leg hurt, but worst of all her heart hurt as every mile took her further away from the woman she loved and closer to the horrors she’d left behind.

It was long dark again by the next time the truck stopped. This time she acted the pacified captive, meekly allowing her captor to take her inside the gas station--where strangely no one seemed to notice her fucking Dark Age style manacles--and use the bathroom without so much as a twitch to escape. He walked her back out to the truck and locked her in before heading off for some time. When he returned, he opened the door a crack and tossed in some Corn Nuts and a big jug of water. They stayed at the truck stop for a few hours, blessedly still non-bumpy hours that Clarke used to catch some sleep, as she assumed the Ice Fae was doing.

Morning came and with it, a brief trip to the bathroom and a gas station breakfast burrito, then the awful sensation of a gigantic engine and uneven roads starting up again. Maybe halfway through the day, they stopped again for another pit stop. Her captor allowed her to use the bathroom on her own, having relaxed his guard at her act of complacency. The blonde examined the tiny bathroom for anything she could use to escape, even a scrap of metal could be instrumental in helping her if used the right way. There! High up the wall near the ceiling was a thin window, covered in grime and just barely wide enough for her to slip through. Clarke feigned an epic bout of stomach pains to cover the noise of her climbing onto the sink and forcing open the ancient window, wriggling her body out through the thin opening. Her shirt caught on a jagged piece of windowsill and tore, drawing a thin line of blood from a cut underneath. She cursed quietly and tugged herself out and tumbled to the frozen ground beneath. Freezing in place at the heavy thump of impact, Clarke scoured the area for any sign that the Ice Court Fae had heard and was coming to investigate. Long seconds passed, heartbeat loud in her ears, but there was no sign she’d been caught.

The firebrand leapt to her feet and sprinted towards the line of cargo trucks parked in a rest lot. She tried the doors to each cab, hoping that one would be open and she could find a place to hide. They were all locked, gods dammit. _Loki curse me! Why can’t I get just one piece of good luck!_ Clarke’s pulse raced as she felt the minutes tick by, her chance at freedom growing narrower with each moment. She crouched and ran to the next truck, climbing up and grabbing the door handle. _Freya if you’ve ever liked me, please let this one be_ \--the door creaked open at her tug. Hope flooded her as she yanked the cab door open and clambered inside. A hand closed around her ankle with an iron grip, dragging her backwards. She kicked out her other foot and felt the yielding _crunch_ as it connected with bone. Grunts of pain sounded behind her, but the grip stayed unyielding as it pulled her out and to the ground.

Again, Clarke found herself looking up at her captor as he pinned her to the ground. He swung a fist at her face, but she managed to block it with a forearm, the silver cuff absorbing some of the blow. She attempted to twist and pull her legs up from under her kidnapper, but he was too heavy and she couldn’t get the leverage she needed. Ice ground against her back through the thin material of her sweatshirt as they grappled. Instinctively, she tried to summon her fire over and over, but not even the tiniest spark answered her call. Without her flames, she was almost as helpless as a normal human, her enhanced speed not nearly enough to compete with an almost full-blooded fae. Blood streamed down the man’s face, staining his teeth a gory red as he grimaced while trying to subdue the firebrand.

“Will. you. STOP.” Each word was punctuated by a hit to Clarke’s prostrate body. “Why are you so fucking **difficult**!” Her captor snarled as he finally managed to pin her arms down to her sides.

“What the fuck is going on here?” An unfamiliar voice called, gruff with indignation and surprise. Her kidnapper glanced up in surprise at the trucker who had just rounded the corner of the truck. Clarke took advantage of the opening and _heaved_ , thrusting her hips up as she captured the kidnapper’s arm to prevent him from balancing himself. He toppled over her shoulder and she ended up on top with the kidnapper on his back. She kneed him in the balls and shoved herself onto her feet, landing another kick to his kidney on the way up.

“He--he,” she panted and stumbled towards the trucker, “kidnapped me. Help me, please.” The trucker stepped closer to her and held out his hands to steady her.

“Don’t wo--” his words cut off with a thick gurgle as a thin blade sprouted from his throat, the handle quivering with the force of the throw. The trucker lurched forward and collapsed face first to the ground, blood pooling around him and quickly freezing in the cold. Clarke whipped around only to meet with a fist to the face. Red light flashed in her eyes as the gloved fist connected with her cheekbone. The fist was followed up with a knee to the gut and Clarke doubled over, heaving up the meager contents of her stomach. A hand grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, icy blue eyes boring into hers with fury and impatience.

“His death is on _you_ , Wanheda.” He grinds out, voice laced with anger. Clarke’s jaws clench as guilt surges up her throat as she catches a glimpse of the body of the innocent trucker laying a puddle of blood. “I swear, if I wasn’t forced to bring you back alive and in one piece…” he trails off and grumbles under his breath.

Involuntary tears of pain leaked from her eyes as the grip on her hair tightened mercilessly. The man dragged her bodily towards his own truck, Clarke’s hands wrapped around the hand tangled in her hair to try to alleviate the pain. She kicked her feet helplessly, but no amount of struggling would loosen the grip. He threw her up against the side of his truck and her head banging painfully against the cold metal. She expected him to be glaring at her, ready for some quip at how she wasn’t so impressive without her magic. Instead, he was glancing to either side, body tensed like a bowstring. He clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle any sound and listened. Cursing, he lifted her off her feet and carried her to the open back of the truck, tossing her inside and slamming the doors shut unceremoniously. She was exhausted from the escape attempt, but forced her aching body upright to listen against the nearest wall. There was no crunching of boots against ground for several moments, nothing that indicated her captor’s position. _Why isn’t the truck starting?_ Clarke wondered briefly. _Maybe he’s taking care of the body?_

Clarke crouched, shivering with cold and the comedown of her adrenaline rush. Anger and desperation burned in her chest, was there no way to escape then? No matter what she did, she was trapped, useless without her fire. She clenched her fists and curled in on herself under the crushing weight of her powerlessness. Panic was building again, constricting her lungs and muddling her thoughts. She was helpless _again_. Nausea and fear flooded through her, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. It was all just like before, like that first time when she was dragged away from everything she’d ever known to be a slave in the hands of a cruel, heartless Ice Queen, a plaything. _Nylah was wrong. I was never safe. Safety is a lie. I will never be safe. Something will always come for me. I was never made for peace._ Her thoughts spiraled and she barely noticed as the truck started and resumed its relentless journey towards Clarke’s death.

\--------------------------------------------------

Lexa’s leather clad form stepped down from the small plane as soon as it came to a stop, eyes blazing green with murderous intent. She stalked across the floor to the truck her Second was leaning against. Icy wrath billowed from her, choking the small hangar with suffocating anger. Everyone shrank away from the Commander, wilting like spring flowers in summer heat and falling to their knees to grovel, except for Anya. She stood tall, straightening up as her sister approached, face grim but not giving in to the oppressive weight of her sister’s fury. Lexa’s eyes glowed emerald and it took everything she had to hold onto her human skin. Sister Wolf was livid at her Second’s failure to protect her _**mate**_ **.** Lexa stopped in front of Anya and her hand shot out, gripping the other woman by the neck and lifting her effortlessly into the air. She slammed Anya’s unresisting body into the truck, denting the metal and shattering the passenger window.

“ **How?** ” Sister Wolf accused, words garbled by the growls reverberating from her chest, “ **How could you lose her? I TRUSTED YOU.** ” Lexa felt her other hand lift and join the other, tightening around Anya’s throat as Sister Wolf decided to take the reins.

“I-I’m sorry,” Anya choked out, “Commander.” She dropped her gaze, tilted her chin up, and completely relaxed in the Alpha’s grip, being as submissive as possible.

It was enough to convince Sister Wolf to drop her and step back. Her fists clenched by her sides and blood started to drip as nails dug into her palms. Lexa was oblivious to the pain as she slammed her eyes shut, her face contorted with the effort of controlling herself, chest heaving and spine ramrod straight. When her eyes reopened, they were their normal forest-green and the atmosphere drained of the overwhelming rage. Her gaze refocused on the Second, who hadn’t risen from her she’d fallen to the floor.

“Tell me everything.”

\------------------------

Anya updated the Alpha on everything they’d learned between Clarke’s abduction and now on the drive over to the Jeep wreck. Lexa had insisted on going straight there instead of stopping off at the cabin first. Lexa was frustrated at what little her wolves had been able to glean from the crash site, but she tried to stuff down her impatience and desperation. She knew it wasn’t fair to take it out on the pack. Clarke had always made it clear that she would not be controlled and Lexa shouldn’t have been surprised that she insisted on going off by herself. They had done everything they could once they realized she was missing. Honestly, Lexa wouldn’t have been able to do a better job even if she had been here.

She listened intently to Anya’s update, storing the few bits of information away to be thoroughly examined when she had better control of herself. There was the slightest pull towards Clarke through their mating bond, pointing her in her mate’s current direction, but that did little to comfort Lexa or Sister Wolf. It was like the needle of a compass, showing her the direction, but giving no information on distance or path to travel. Lexa had to fight the impulse to take off on her Ducati, speeding in Clarke’s direction as fast as possible. Logically she knew it was a stupid idea. The Montana winter was too brutal for riding a motorcycle. The ice on the roads would slow her and the freezing cold would be too much even for a werewolf. She would be useless if she just ran off without thinking, no matter how Sister Wolf strained to do just that. _Stop, Wolf, this isn’t helping!_ She admonished her wolf. The only response was a howl of desperation as Sister Wolf continued battering herself against Lexa’s iron control.

Lexa inspected the crash site, Sister Wolf nearly inconsolable at the scent of Clarke’s blood, but came away with nothing new. They headed back to Aspen Creek to regroup and plan out their next steps. On the way over, Anya’s phone rang. Lexa answered it with a sharp hello.

“Commander?” Octavia sounded thrown by Lexa answering instead of Anya, but recovered quickly. “We found her.” Lexa’s heart leapt to her throat with hope. “Well, kind of. We found footage of her and the truck she’s being transported in. It seems like it’s only one guy and he’s taking her north in a semi truck. Lincoln and I are on the road, following. We should be able to catch up to them. The roads are too bad for the semi to drive quickly.” Sister Wolf whined in her mind, mollified by the assurance that they were close to getting Clarke back.

“Keep us updated every half hour.” It took monumental effort to prevent herself from throwing herself out of this car and sprinting to where Lincoln and Octavia were. She knew it would be a ridiculous endeavor and she could be of more use here, trying to figure out who was responsible for the kidnapping. She hung up without another word to Octavia. The fog of fear and anger dissipated with the assurance that her mate would soon be safe again. Her mind cleared and she began to actually think through the events of the past 24 hours. Anya glanced over at her expectantly.

“Lincoln and Octavia are on her trail. They found out who took her and are catching up to him.” Lexa replied shortly. Anya’s shoulders loosened a touch with relief.

“Good, but we still don’t--” Anya began, before Lexa cut her off.

“Who took her, I know. And how they knew where she’d be. This was no accident, Anya. Whoever took her _planned_ this. They waited for me to be gone and for Clarke to be alone. They somehow knew when she would be vulnerable and easily captured. They were prepared for Clarke’s magic. There’s no way they would be able to keep her contained in a semi truck without some way to control her fire. This was no impulsive smash and grab, every piece of this was planned out in advance. They laid a trap and we all fell right into it.” Lexa’s gaze drilled a hole in the windshield in front of her as her mind whirled, examining everything that had happened with laser focus. She came to a conclusion, there was no other explanation. “We have another mole in Aspen Creek.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay okay okay, so kind of a cliffhanger, please don't murder me *hides behind my laptop screen pitifully*. I actually have a good portion of the next chapter written and planned out, so the next update should come MUCH sooner than this one did.  
> From the bottom of my void, thank you so much to everyone who commented and gave this story kudos!!! Honestly, I have ADHD up the wazoo and the only thing motivating me to continue is the incredibly kind and supportive comments from you guys! Each one gives me warm fuzzies and make me want to continue working on my shitty excuse for a clexa fic. I love you all so much!!! 😊😊😊😊😊😊😊

**Author's Note:**

> Work and Chapter Titles are from "Where's My Love" by SYML.


End file.
